


In Tortured Eyes I Stand Forgiven

by GeorgeEliot



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Kylo Ren-Corporate Lawyer, Modern AU-New York City Legal Setting, Pride & Prejudice level pining all the way through though lol, Rey-Civil Rights Lawyer, Secret Relationship, Slow but Fast Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:09:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28887384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeorgeEliot/pseuds/GeorgeEliot
Summary: Love is merely the power one holds over another. When Finn Davis escapes from the First Order, the world's most powerful and ruthless arms dealer, the ACLU takes his case. Young Rey Johnson is assigned as lead attorney against the menacing Kylo Ren and they are immediately at each other's throats. But as the case and their relationship grow more complex, it becomes impossible to distinguish what is a quest for love and what is a quest for power.
Relationships: Rey & Ben Solo, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 13
Kudos: 34





	1. Chapter I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [diasterisms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/diasterisms/gifts).



> Howdy everyone! First fic. Kinda nervous. Explanations of legal jargon and other technical terms will be in the end notes. Part one of this work is completely finished so updates should be coming quickly!
> 
> I've been feeling really down since the death of my pet parrot Herbert, but he seemed to always love Law and Order, so I'm writing this fic in his honor. His favorite character was Ice T <3
> 
> Please leave comments and let us know what you think! Or just talk about anything, that's what Herbert would have wanted. Enjoy!
> 
> (The title comes from the poem "Banishment" by Siegfried Sassoon, a soldier writing in the midst of World War I)

“Men are driven by two principal interests, by love or by fear.”  
Niccoló Machiavelli 

The law has never, in any sense, been an issue of morality. Laws do not exist to make a society function morally, but exist to make a society function cohesively. Order, not justice, is the root from which all law stems. 

Thus also is the nature of power. Like law, it is a neutral force equally conducive to good or evil. Power is used by certain people over others: power they in turn happily surrender to create order in a society. If one is truly committed to the presual of power, one must cast morality aside for lesser men to pick up and appreciate. 

The only exception to this rule is love, which ironically by definition is merely the power one individual holds over another. To love is to be selfless, to be kind, to forsake one’s external allegiances for the allegiances of the heart. It is a fool’s errand and—as you will see in the following narrative—the greatest disruption to order, the greatest form of entropy. 

Rey had always hated Machiavelli. She refused to allow his cynical description of power to penetrate her skull; instead she relentlessly gravitated to hope. In law school she had studied the corruption of corporate taxes, the racism of mandatory minimums, and the fear-mongering of McCarthyism, and yet still—perhaps ignorantly—she had hope. She would singlehandedly rip up the roots of order and sow justice in its stead. Which is why after law school she was inevitably drawn to the ACLU—American Civil Liberties Union—the last best hope of a free and just society according to president Leia Organa. 

Rey had watched all of Organa’s speeches the internet would yield in preparation for her interview, which filled her with a righteous fervor so strong it scared her, for the more she ached for the job the more devastated she knew she would be when they rejected her. She had sent all of her résumés and corresponded with various staffers over email, but the interview would decide her fate. Her odds were not good, typically the eagerness of young lawyers fresh from the bar could not supplement their uselessness. What they had skimmed in stuffy, calcified law books was typically irrelevant to their actual work, making them over-educated interns until the firm partners deigned them worthy of a case.

Rey knew this, and knew that the ACLU was no place to get one’s bearings as an attorney, but still, standing outside a glassy skyscraper in the Manhattan financial district, she had hope. It was 8:27 a.m. and she was thirty-three minutes early for her interview with Organa. Her shoes were half a size too small, making every step pinch but not unbearably so. The coffee shop has only gotten her order a little wrong, forgetting the cream. She had worn her most professional dress, the first item of clothing she had ever bought new, which she cherished like a garment ten times it’s worth. The morning had been mediocre, neither good or bad enough to project an omen of failure: she was ready. 

Tan marble. Bland elevator jazz. Glass doors. And then it all emerged before her: the 18th floor, ACLU headquarters. Had Dorothy K  
Kenyon walked these same halls? Had Ruth Bater Ginsburg sat in the same chair as her, picking at her nails and tapping her knee? Her feet ached. The history of it all was overwhelming, but before she fell too deeply into it an office door opened and a small, regal woman Rey had seen through a screen now stood before her in the flesh. She was shorter than Rey imagined. It must be difficult to stuff such power into so few inches. 

“Rey Johnson?” Rey stood quickly and adjusted her posture with a sudden military rigidity. 

“Yes ma’am, Ms. Organa?” 

“Here I am, please come in,” Rey scurried after her. The office was all cherry wood, stuffed with the typical law books and court rulings that after the genesis of the computer no one ever really used except for aesthetics.

“You were recommended to us from Professor Akbar, an old friend of mine. That’s an achievement, we don’t often consider fresh blood. We’re too busy here to break you in.” 

“Yes ma’am, I understand. I’ve already had some experience clerking for Sotomayor last year. I promise you won’t have to break me in, I’ll be able to keep up if you give me the opportunity.” Organa was nodding patiently as Rey made her pitch, but her eyes were guarded and unchanging. She was a woman that gave the uncanny impression that she already knew what one was going to say. Organa spoke.

“That was very impressive, very few law students clerk for the Supreme Court, I imagine your classmates were salivating over your opportunity.”  
“At first, but after they saw the workload they just pitied me I think,” Organa chuckled and Rey perked up at her chances.

“That figures, everyone’s ambitious until they see how much work it all is,” she pulled out a folder retrieved what Rey could see through the thin paper was the shadow of her résumé, “Well Rey, you certainly have quite the record. Interesting choice for a major. Mechanical engineering?”

“Yes, in secondary school I worked at my foster father’s scrapyard and found that I was good with my hands. I spent my nights piecing together spare parts and building trinkets, so it felt like the natural path forward, I suppose.”

“Why’d you come to the States for school? Although I understand Yale would be worth crossing the pond for.”

“They offered me a good scholarship and,” how to word this, “I wanted to see more of the world.” Rey had come to the United States more a refugee than a student. Plutt’s scrapyard had been an oblivion of hunger, uncertainty, and fear. Because she was clever and because she had hidden in the bathroom (the only room with a door that could lock) to do homework late into the night, she was able to escape. The other children under his tyranny had not been so lucky, and languished there still. The only reason she hadn’t run away sooner was because Plutt’s address was the only one her parents could feasibly have, and without it they could never return for her. But after eleven years in the system fear finally eclipsed hope and she ran away to America, where she was still tormented by what could have been if she had just waited a little longer.

“Yale, my alma mater, for both undergrad and law school. Why the change? Engineering and law feel like natural enemies,” Organa questioned.

“Not as much as people think, they’re both just critical thinking and problem-solving, but it was still a big adjustment. But what I think made me switch...” a memory passed through Rey’s mind, smooth as bedrock from her consistent reminiscing, but what she usually cherished she now pushed away blithely, it would not do to dwell in daydreams here, “...was knowing that I would be able to actually see who I was helping. As an engineer I would have stuffed in some lab and never been able to see the effects of my work. Here I can.”

“You want to help people. Corporate law never interested you then?”

“No ma’am, it looks quite boring honestly,” Organa chuckled again.

“I must say I agree with you there, but I doubt my son would,” her expression flinched and Rey was confused. Her Wikipedia profile hadn’t mentioned a son, only an estranged husband who’s name she forgot. Or perhaps she had just forgotten a son, it was roughly 2:00 a.m. the night before when she had read it in a last-ditch effort of interview preparation. “Rey, I must say again that I’m very impressed. Most students start out seeking to do justice but get disillusioned when they start getting internships and see how well more dubious fields pay. You don’t seem to be one of them, and I consider myself a fairly good judge of people. You’ll do well here.”

What did she mean? Was she hired? She had answered less than ten questions. Her remaining coffee was still cooling in the trash bin in the lobby. Hired? Here?

“Does...does this mean I got the job?” Rey ventured.

“Yes,” said Organa, “it does. Report here Monday at 8:00 and Dameron will show you the ropes. I know you’ve worked at the Supreme Court, but we move faster here, scrappier too,” Rey was nodding relentlessly to convey her enthusiasm. She had to dig her nails into her palms to stop from hugging her now boss.

“Yes ma’am, thank you ma’am, I can’t describe what this means to me.”

“Don’t thank me, just don’t be late. And now that we’re colleagues, no more ‘ma’am’ nonsense. Leia will do fine.”

“Right, thank you...Leia.”

Three Months Later.

“Rey, have you seen a highlighted copy of Mapp v. Ohio? Some dumb fuck police department in Statin Island searched a guy’s car as if stop-and-frisk, which should be illegal anyway by the way, suddenly lets them do whatever the hell they want! But I think we can get the materials thrown out for being illegally obtained, even if it was three kilos of cocaine.” Rey looked up from her amicus brief.

“Where was he hiding a kilo of cocaine?”

“He put it in a grocery bag and said it was sugar.” 

“That’s a good alibi by Staten Island standards.”

“Doesn’t matter, it’s about the principal, have you seen it?”

“Nope, I’ve been sitting here all day, I need to get this to the 2nd circuit by five.”

“Right, good, you need help with it?”

“I’m fine, I’m just polishing now anyway.”

Poe sighed dramatically, “You know I can hardly call you my protégée when you never ask for help, could you ask a question or two just to humor me?”

“Alright, where’s your copy of Mapp?”

“Fuck off. Let me know if you need anything.” Poe began turning around before being struck with sudden thought.

“Hey, also did you see that First Order scandal? I think we could have a case there.” 

“The whistleblower? I thought so too, but I only heard a five-minute piece on it. I’d want to sit down and interview him if we could.”

“Me too, I’ll talk to Leia about it when she gets out of her meeting. If you have time after you get done with that start compiling any information you can find.”

“Sure thing,” replied Rey, already looking back at her brief, now impatient to finish. Poe turned around to continue roaming aimlessly in his search. What Poe lacked in organization he created in passion. No jury could resist his righteous indignation followed by heartfelt pleas; and with liberty always on his side, he was a force. He had taken Rey in since her tour of the office on her first day and allowed her the independence she craved, soon happily shoveling more responsibility onto her when he saw her potential. 

Rey finished her brief quickly and then turned to the internet to search the First Order. Immediately reports of employee abuse allegations appeared, all stemming from an op-ed in the New York Times by a defected security worker named Finn Navis released just three hours ago. Rey clicked and began reading, and soon began feeling nauseous at the images of the First Order Finn Navis was describing. Where he had been stationed at a plant in rural Utah employees worked 14 hour days while the guards were on shift for 16 at least. Workers lived in barracks with all communications and activity monitored for “safety concerns” regarding the company. They lived, in essence, in a police state. 

Rey remembered the praise the First Order received when they announced their new plant would be on American soil. An idiotic administration had cut virtually all of their taxes and heralded them as the “resurgence of the American manufacturing industry.” Ironically the First Order sold products only to governments, foreign and domestic, almost all of which being weapons of war contributing nothing to the economy and only death to its clients. The Order’s CEO Snoke had built an empire out of a feud between empires in the Cold War, and now profiteered off every variation of conflict and coup d’état. 

Rey’s blood was hot with anger by the end of the op-ed. Leia’s meeting appeared to be finished, so Rey rushed to find Poe. After snatching him from the coffee station she nearly dragged him into Leia’s office while ranting furiously about the First Order’s abuses. Leia was sitting at her desk hunched over a document she was mutilating with a red pen; she looked up at the odd pair.

“Hello Rey. Hello Poe. Is there something you want to tell me?”

“Yes, have you seen the new First Order op-ed? Censoring their employees' information like that is a clear 4th amendment violation, and I’m sure we’ll uncover an 8th and 16th violation there too if we look hard enough. I know a suit like this would normally go through the Department of Labor but it’s so egregious that we could challenge them Constitutionally,” Rey continued explaining everything she could remember for the article without stopping for breath and begged her boss to take up the case. Poe stood mutely beside her, likely because he simply never had a moment to get a word in. Leia’s face betrayed nothing as Rey spoke. 

“So, what do you think?”

“Thank you for that very detailed analysis Rey, but I have in fact already read Mr. Navis’ piece and decided what to do.”

“Ah, right then, so are we taking it?”

“Of course we are, should Mr. Navis agree. I wish he'd come to us before the press, but God knows now the case’ll get the media’s attention. Which means we’ll need a public face, someone young and energetic that’ll paint an empathetic picture to the jury, juxtapose the First Order.”

“Leia I already have three pending cases, four if Staten Island goes forwards, and this is a big case and a brutal opponent. I don’t think I’ll be able to give it the attention it needs,” Poe said, looking as dejected as a child who discovered he didn’t have enough quarters for a popsicle at the ice cream truck. 

“I know, Poe, which is why I want Rey to take it.” Time lost its lucidity and all stood still. Rey’s brain rejected the input it had been given, so absurd was the idea that an attorney with no trial experience would be equipped to lead what would be a very public and gruesome trial. Her throat was still dry and her brain still was numb when she first attempted speech.

“Why me?” 

“This trial will be as political as it will be in any way legal. Appearances are important here, and the First Order’s chief counsel for this case will be both young and relentless, we’ll need someone to match him.”

“How do you know what lawyer they’ll have representing them? They have at least dozens,” Poe interjected.

“They’ll use their best for this case, so just trust me that I know. I said he’s relentless but he’s also calculating. He darts between surgical analysis to badgering witnesses, whatever is necessary. We’ll need to combat him with both empathy and strength.”

“How do you know that's what I’ll be? I haven’t been in a courtroom since Moot Court in law school,” Rey challenged.

“I told you that I’m a good judge of people. And you’re what we need.”

Anyone who knew Finn Navis even casually could tell when he was nervous. He scratched the back of his left hand, sometimes raw under duress. While employed by the First Order and enduring 16 hour shifts, little sleep, and an employer that watched him with the intensity of Big Brother, he had scratched the back of his hand into a long continued wound, now scabbed. The scab however, had its benefits, because now not only could he scratch but also pick at the edges of the dried blood. He chose the former while sitting in a nondescript meeting room at the ACLU, but was jolted from his efforts by the opening of a door and a young woman rushing in.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said, as if being two minutes late was the height of inconvenience, “Slow printer, sorry for leaving you alone in here, I imagine this is all quite intimidating, but we’re so glad you’re here.” She smiled, not only with her mouth but with her eyes, her whole face in fact. To Finn she was the kind of person one could immediately trust just by the pull of their stomach.

“No problem at all, I want to do this,” he replied, “you seem a little young to be an attorney though. This your first case?” Rey’s smiling face cracked with insecurity, “I don’t mean to say you’d do a bad job, I was just curious,” he backpedalled. In an effort for conversation he had already offended his counsel.

“No, no, it’s alright. It’s true this is my first case as lead counsel, but I’ve been a law clerk and already worked on other cases, behind the scenes so to speak. I promise you’re in good hands.” Finn believed her. “And I’m twenty-four, so it’s a perfectly reasonable question. High school in two years, college in three.” 

“Well it sounds like you’re some type of genius, so you’ve made up for experience.” She was smiling again, encouraged.

“I don’t believe in genius, but yes I did work my arse off. I’ll do the same for you.” Finn nodded, not knowing how to respond, “So the first thing we have to do is listen to your story. This isn’t a deposition, that’ll come later, but I’m going to record and take notes. I want you to tell me about your time at the First Order, in particular their policies on workers rights and privacy. Tell me everything you remember, even if you don’t think it’s important. Alright?”

“Yeah, alright.”

Rey’s tape-recorder flashed green, and Finn began.

“I started working at the First Order at age fifteen. The plant I worked at was in the middle of nowhere, out in western Utah, but I’m from Oakland. They advertised hard in the inner cities to poor kids with no other options, bussing us all out there in the summers and when we got out of school full time. When you first begin working there, they make you sign this contract, super technical, would probably take a lawyer like you to read. None of us understood it but they told us that’s what we needed to sign to work at the company and so we signed it. We didn’t have lawyers, all we knew is that we were in the middle of nowhere and this was our only choice.  
Later I found out that that was where we waived basically all our worker’s rights—the right to unionize, restrictions, wage guarantees—all of it gone in the fine print. And worse, the contract apparently had us consent to the First Order having access to any information they thought relevant to “company security.” It felt like anyone who spoke out against them even privately was punished. Never fired, but always punished. The contracts bind for ten years, I got out the minute I could but most of my friends had to renew them because they were too poor to leave. Most of our wages are stripped for expenses like housing and food until we have nothing. It was dehumanizing, they even stripped us of our names and gave us an ID number instead. And they knew what they were doing, they couldn’t trap us there physically but they trapped us financially, some guys for their whole lives.” 

Finn continued explaining First Order policy for the next three hours while Rey alternated between nodding encouragement and taking down almost illegible notes. She had to actively school her impression into professionalism to avoid interrupting Finn with her own rant regarding her new-found hatred for the First Order.  
“Why do they even have bases in the U.S? Here we have labor laws, expensive labor, why not go somewhere else?” Rey interrupted.

“Almost all of their parts are constructed overseas, in different countries in their own sweatshops, but the weapons are assembled here to avoid any government stealing their designs. The United States was different because so many First Order weapons are sold to them anyway and they cut some sort of agreement, waving the Order from the typical government inspections and almost all their taxes,” Finn answered, disheartened. He was clearly intelligent, too intelligent for the petty labor the First Order required of him, recalling all of his experience with a practiced detail. After he finished they were both exhausted.

“Thank you Finn, that’s been a great help. You’ll have to do this again during discovery, but you’ll be a great witness. Do you think they’re anyone’s else that’s defected that would be willing to speak out?”

“I’ll have to look, sometimes people just disappeared, but we never knew where they went. I’ll have to ask around, a lot of times I didn’t even know the other employees' names.”

“That’s alright, just do what you can and be patient. This is going to be a very long process, and at some point you’ll probably be tempted to just settle and move on. Don’t do that. I don’t care if I have to appeal to the Supreme Court, we’ll win Finn. And we’ll help all those people at the First Order who didn’t get out.” Finn was scratching his hand.

“I won’t bow out, for their sake anyways. Thank you Rey, really. I’m not really used to people listening to me.”

“Don’t worry about that, the whole world will be watching this case. We’ll be in contact with you soon. Do not talk to the press. They’ll be asking questions but we don’t want to show our hand to the bastards at the First Order, alright?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Just Rey is fine.”

“Okay then, Rey.” 

They shook hands and Finn disappeared down the elevator shaft. 

“Hey Rey, you done with Navis yet?” Poe was peeking in the door.

“Yeah he just left, what’s up?”

“Good news, Leia’s letting me in as your co-counsel. Staten Island pled out immediately like a fucking idiot, so now my case load isn’t quite as bad.”  
“So you don’t trust me to handle this?” As you shouldn’t, Rey thought.

“Of course I trust you, but this is a big case and I don’t want you cracking under the stress, protégé, understand?”

“Of course Poe, I’m only joking. If you really want to help here’s his statement if you want to listen so we can compare notes. I’m going to get started on the complaint. You can proof it when I’m done.” Rey returned to her cubicle after taking a few laps to stretch herself out after hours in the meeting room; then sat down, cracked her knuckles, and began. As her complaint—a statement providing the legal facts of the case and the requested compensation—began taking shape, Rey found it to be full of subtle jabs dangling on the precipice of insulting. She considered editing them out, but then reasoned that Poe would cut them if they were too egregious. Her disdain for the First Order was already obvious by virtue of her filing suit.

Three days later Rey was ready to serve the complaint. Poe had adjusted the most obvious insults, but left most untouched, arguing that everything that wasn’t a comment on how First Order wallets weighed more than First Order brains was very professional. Rey was determined to serve the document and summons by hand herself, instead of the typical court official. Despite all of her research on Snoke she still couldn’t make out his character, sensing his public persona a facade, and would not forsake the opportunity to meet him and possibly goad some sort of information out of him. 

The First Order’s headquarters was three blocks from the ACLU, occupying an entire skyscraper in the modernist design, constituted of steel, jarring black glass, and tainted windows. The words FIRST ORDER INCORPORATED hung like a gargoyle above the entrances but Rey reasoned herself into calm. Was she not here to serve them a court summons? Shouldn't they be afraid of her? The thought was futile to calm her but nevertheless it was true. The lobby was also furnished in black, this time in marble. This combined with the three layers of security Rey had to work through and complete absence of happy expressions was enough for Rey to think this all an elaborate show set to intimidate her. In honesty, it worked. But still she pushed onward to a frowning secretary’s desk and asked for Snoke’s office. The secretly scoffed.

“I assume you have an appointment?”

“I’m afraid not, but I expect he’ll want to see me anyways. I’m here to serve a complaint from the ACLU for civil suit.” The secretary directed her to the top floor. Black marble. A silent elevator. Mahogany stained doors. They were so heavy that they required all of Rey’s weight, and once ajar they revealed another secretary who asked her to please wait here, Mr. Snoke was just finishing a meeting with his lawyer. 

“Does he know why I’m here?”

“Yes, miss, you’ll find Snoke knows most information more quickly than we can tell him.”

“I know, that’s the whole problem.” 

The secretary did not respond. Within ten minutes the intercom buzzed. 

“Send in the girl,” a rasping voice commanded. 

“Mr. Snoke will see you now,” said the secretary. Rey rose from her chair. The attorney Snoke was apparently meeting with had not emerged from his office, she would have an audience. She hoped he would allow Snoke to gloat to her, or speak sloppily in condescension so she could hopefully hear something of use. The door to Snoke’s private office was also mahogany, and after opening them Rey was in an expansive quarters containing an abundance of stiff, black leather furniture, a billiards table, and several baroque paintings she suspected were originals. The surrounding windows were tinted and the air was thick and oppressive. So large and overwhelming the space it took a moment for Rey’s eyes to find a desk in the opposite corner, behind which a bald, slightly shriveled man stretched out lazily like a cat. The attorney sat across the desk but only the back of his head was visible. 

The two seemed to be in heated conversation but when the door behind Rey clicked shut Snoke turned his attention to her, standing. 

“You must be the young Ms. Johnson, the ACLU’s newest pet. Welcome, I hear you have a gift for me.” Rey regretted every slight she had written too boldly in her complaint, knowing now that they would endure this cruel man’s wrath.

“You could call it that, I see you’re looking forward to trial as well,” Rey said as she approached. Upon closer inspection Snoke cut an even more disquieting figure. Long, thin limbs and wrinkled hands colored purple with veins. His face was unnaturally smooth, likely the result of Botox, which made his thin smile appear even thinner. She placed the comping firmly on his desk.

“We’ll expect your response within the month.” The attorney stood now as well, and the movement caught Rey’s eye. She turned to face him and froze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Machiavelli- Renaissance philosopher and author of "The Prince", a controversial political essay that functions as a manual on how to achieve and maintain power, disregarding morality, some argue that its instruction is ironic, but it is still seen as morally dubious
> 
> ACLU- The American Civil Liberties Union, a famous civil rights organization that litigates Constitutional law
> 
> 4th Amendment- protects against unlawful searches and seizures, the ACLU is arguing that this amendment protects against the First Order seizing private data from its employees
> 
> Moot Court- competitions between groups of law students representing different school in which they imitate lawyers and witnesses in an invented case provided to them, the high school & college equivalent is Mock Trial/Trial Team
> 
> Discovery- a pretrial process of collecting and sharing evidence between counsels, often the most lengthly part of a trial
> 
> Complaint- a legal document written by the plaintiff (the equivalent to the prosecution in civil cases) describing why they are bringing a case against the Defendant


	2. Chapter II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben and Rey recall the first time they see each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter this time, this as a memory sequence that we felt worked better as a stand-alone chapter. More updates soon to follow!
> 
> Update: my cat that loved NCIS is still dead.

A memory. As a freshman at Yale Rey had befriended a girl, Victoria, on the debate team who begged her to accompany her to the Moot Court national championships in New York City —a short train ride away from New Haven—so she wouldn’t have to sit alone. Moot Court was for law students, a fictional case created specifically to argue in competition and be graded on their performance. Victoria was invested in the program and Rey was happy for the distraction. When the pair entered the gallery the faced the mock attorneys perpendicularly, they could easily watch their anxious faces as they sat erect and waiting for the judge to emerge from his chambers. 

Yale’s attorneys were both male, the shorter one shuffling papers and the taller one sitting stoically with eyes trained on the door. He might have appeared relaxed, but a twitch under his left eye betrayed him, the only hint at his humanity. The judge entered and all rose, who then directed the prosecution to deliver their opening statement. The tall one stood, buttoned his suit coat, walked to the podium and then past it. He positioned himself in the most centers part of the floor and turned to face a panel of middle-aged attorneys with legal pads that would serve as judges. 

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” he began. His voice flowed to every corner of the room with ease, clear and fervent and beautiful. He was physically imposing and used his presence to he is advantage, working the room like an actor in soliloquy. Rey did not listen to the content of the speech but rather focused on him, with his soft, expressive features and lush hair. But as he spoke his eyes kept flitting back to the gallery most distant corner, where a shrived man with purple hands sat, appearing unsatisfied with his performance. Rey was puzzled why he looked so severe, or why the man appeared to care. When he sat down Rey leaned to Victoria and asked who the man was.

“He calls himself Kylo Ren, one of the best lawyers the program ever had apparently. He’s already got himself some cushy job as a lawyer at the First Order set up for after he graduates.”

“What the fuck kind of name is Kylo Ren?” Rey asked. Victoria shrugged.

“I don’t think it’s his real one, I heard he changed it when he turned eighteen, rejecting the family and all that. Hang on, Vanderbilt’s opening.” 

Rey could not fathom rejecting a family no matter their temperament. In order to not think ill of Ren she imagined his family as vain, selfish people and him as the noble son rejecting their poisoned wealth in favor of forging his own destiny. When she was satisfied with the history she had invented, she returned to staring at him for the rest of the trial and was throughly entertained. Not only was his beautiful, but he also made a compelling argument. Rey found herself invested i the outcome of the trial—one of a man suffering a psychotic break after discovering his daughter to be pregnant, then killing the father of her baby. Ren argued against the man, arguing that only legality, not morality, was on trial today. He made Rey almost agree. The judges, however, did agree: crowning Yale national champions and him best attorney. He smiled faintly as he received the award, but then turned to face the man with purple hands, and his smile disappeared. 

A memory. Kylo’s smile disappeared as he discovered that the ruling of Able v. United States in fact did not support his argument for his paper, quite the reverse. He was in hour nine at the library combing through law books researching for his submission to the Yale Law Journel. He was months away from the deadline and already feeling behind, perhaps because he had found nothing of value in the past hour to cite. 

He looked beyond his cluster of books that had been gradually forming a nest around him throughout the day, and his eyes came to rest on a teenager who appeared to be struggling with some sort of outline, referring to both a packet and her computer and writing down nothing. Another girl at the table next to her was deeply engrossed in some sort of reading, but responded when the struggling girl reached over to tap her shoulder. 

“Hey, have you had Professor Hanson before?” she asked.

“Oh yeah, I had her last semester for econ, having trouble?”

“A bit, yeah. She’s asking us to examine colonial systems of government but I’m not really sure what she’s asking,” she continued on explaining the assignment: the other girl listening intently, Kylo eavesdropping.

“I remember this assignment, it’s not too bad once you separate out the prompt, I can show you a format she likes, she’s really weird about that,” the other girl said, then pulled up a chair and began walking her through the entire assignment, sitting there for well over an hour. 

She never lost her enthusiasm, no matter how stupid Kylo thought the struggling girl’s questions were. Surely she must know how rude it was to waste such a clearly superior student’s time. But Kylo couldn’t help but enjoy watching her. Of course she was beautiful, with bright eyes, raven hair, and freckles dusting her face, but more intriguingly she was unfailingly kind, something Kylo had never been able to accomplish. Snoke had already taught him that in business nothing is free, all must be earned or taken and drew no moral distinction between the two. Even now his peers were offering him cash or gifts in exchange for editing their papers or an hour in the library, as if generosity was a concept beyond his fathoming. 

But what Kylo knew to be a valued commodity this girl gave freely, and he worried that she might be taken advantage of in the future if she did not recognize her own worth. For the rest of term, Kylo looked twice whenever he saw long raven hair, or a stature like her’s, or a coat the same color as the one he had seen draped on the back of her chair. Every time he was disappointed, but he still saw her when his mind wandered in lecture or study sessions for the bar. 

There, in his mind, she asked him for help, and he would return the kindness she was owed; not because Kylo was selfless, but because she was. She deserved his notice, his attention, his help. The daydreams always became hazy after that first encounter—what he would do given the opportunity. He did not know the outcome of his fantasy, but he still returned to the image of it until the details of her face became clouded from over-examination. He forgot her gradually but never totally. In the darkest days of his tutelage under Snoke he still remembered her face and found that light still festered within him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Haven- the town surrounding (and owned by) Yale University, used by people wanting to subtly brag they went to Yale
> 
> Abel v. United States (1960)- Supreme Court case in which a man, Abel, is being investigated for illegally living and the U.S. by the INS and being investigated for espionage by the FBI. After being arrested by the INS with a warrant, the FBI illegally searched his room without one. Privacy rights will become a running theme in this story, so this is just a detail supporting that theme
> 
> Yale Law Journal- law journal put out by Yale Law School discussing different cases and Constitutional issues, common for law schools


	3. Chapter III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to my amazing beta <3 who is a spelling bee champion while I apparently can't spell foreign lol

Kylo now stared at the same face, seven years older and yet still young. His brain rushed to update the details that time had blurred, the new sharpness of her cheeks, the raven hair now pinned back, the suit that replaced sweatpants. He almost forgot himself and greeted her as if reunited, but he remembered in the fraction of a second before movement that he was still a stranger to her. And perhaps her to him too, had not almost all of his interactions with her been figments of his imagination? No. He knew her, her kindness. Her light. But he could not betray that now. 

She looked at him and her eyes too widened in recognition, or had he imagined it? But then he remembered the ACLU, and his mother, and the poison she likely poured into her ear. His psyche shrieked in frustration at how his mother had sunk her talons into her and already prejudiced her against him. Because of Organa, she would hate him before she met him, and shout down his mother’s self-righteous barbs down from her pedestal of goodness. Part of him began to hate her.

“Ren will have no trouble providing a response within the timeframe. I fear your little band of socialist may not be aware of how powerful an enemy you’re making,” Snoke was gloating again, “But that doesn’t matter now, you’ve already thrown down the gauntlet and now must face the duel, isn’t that so Ren?” Kylo had not processed anything Snoke had said, lost completely in more important matters. But he could still register that he had been asked something.

“I’m ready, sir, for whatever is required of me,” he said, hoping it answered Snoke’s question. When in doubt, affirm total loyalty, which always pacified him at least somewhat. 

“I’m sure you are,” Snoke said, then turned back to face the girl—what had Snoke called her?

“If I may be so bold to ask who will be leading this great worker’s crusade? Who has the disgruntled FN-2187 chosen for counsel?” 

“His name is Finn Navis and I’ll be representing him at trial.” 

Even Snoke raised an eyebrow at this, then chuckled lightly, “I see Organa has grown sloppy, putting a child as her only defense between her and us.” The girl smiled too, but humorlessly. 

“I assure you she has not grown sloppy, quite the opposite. I’ll be waiting for your answer.” She gave a last look to Kylo, one with none of the curiosity as the first, then turned her back on Snoke and left. Kylo watched her leave then turned to Snoke, who was watching him closely. 

“You seem rather riled, Ren, I hope a nice ass won’t distract you from the case at hand,” Kylo clenched his fists, disgusted that he would speak of her so. But of course he said nothing, “the fact that they chose some pretty young thing as lead counsel shows that this will be a political spectacle more so than a trial. We must win both, do you understand?” 

“Yes, sir,” Kylo said through gritted teeth. 

“Good, then take this and begin a response, I want this case to have your full attention. The ACLU has been a thorn in my side for decades now, but this is their boldest advance yet. This must be a total victory, boy, understood?”

“Yes sir.” He grabbed the complaint from the desk and left. 

The next day Kylo was called into Snoke’s office again. “I’ve done some digging on the girl, I thought you might be interested” he gestured to the seat across from him which Kylo took, “She’s an orphan from Birmingham, England, she came to America at the age of sixteen after receiving a scholarship from Yale for mechanical engineering, then staying there for law school specializing in Constitutional. You would have overlapped a year, when she was a freshman and you as an L3, any connection?” 

“No.” 

“Hmm, any boyfriends, scandals she was involved in?”

“No.”

“Pity, it doesn’t appear that she has any sort of pressure point now, but that could change. She needs to be intimated.” Kylo was aware of Snoke’s methods of intimidation, most of which included back alleys and beatings with phone books to avoid bruises. 

“How so?”

“Because the ACLU is taking us to trial they consider themselves beyond our reach, we need to show them that they are not, young apprentice. She lives in a studio apartment on John Street, a ten minute walk from here. I want you to move into the same building.”

“What? That’s insane, what good could that possibly do except get me charged for stalking?” He had overstepped, and in a belated effort for damage control he hung his head submissively.

“You forget, boy, to whom you speak. There is no law against living in the same building as an opposing counsel. Of course I have people that could watch her door every moment, but this is more personal. With you there she’ll know it’s us watching, that she’ll never have secrets from us. This is not a suggestion, this is an order.”

“Yes sir.”

“Good, I’ve rented the apartment above her’s, you’ll move in today. And I assume you’ve read the complaint.”

“Yes sir, it lays out the facts clearly but they have little legal standing when considering the contract all First Order employees sign. It’ll be over quickly.” Kylo did not mention the sarcastic contempt that dripped from the page in some places, not wanting to subject Rey—her name according to her letterhead, which Kylo had repeated constantly to fill the void of her identity that had so long been a gaping hole in his mind—to any more of Snoke’s scrutiny. 

“Do not get arrogant now, there is still much work to be done. Dismissed.” 

On the way out of Snoke’s quarters his secretary stopped him to give him a key and an address to his new apartment. Kylo flinched and took it. 

Moving in was a depressingly simple process. Without sentimental trinkets or family heirlooms, Kylo easily fit his essentials and wardrobe into four cardboard boxes for his new apartment, which he reasoned would be a very temporary situation and thus not worth a full transition. He called a company car and enlisted a driver to help move him ten blocks away from his current high rise, which was so sparsely furnished it appeared like he had never properly moved in. His new building had no busboy to carry his things, but because there was so little it hardly mattered. After three trips to the eighth floor Kylo was in the elevator to retrieve his last box when the cabin stopped at the 7th floor for another passenger. 

The doors opened to reveal Rey, in another prim suit set this time in a deep purple, typing out an email on her phone until she looked up and stepped back in surprise.  
“What the hell are you doing here?” She asked. Kylo could not resist being petty.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I live here! Are you coming to wiretap my apartment or something?”

“No, it may surprise you, but I live here too.”

“Oh really, and when did that happen, today?” The doors began to close but Kylo pressed the button to keep them open.

“Yes, actually.”

“Why am I even surprised? The could have at least sent a gang of thugs to murder me in my sleep if they were so pressed about this case, which they should be.”

“No one’s coming to murder you in your sleep, but if you want to escape you’ll need to take the elevator.” Rey was still looking at him like he had a knife tucked up his sleeve, but warily she stepped into the elevator and immediately fled to the opposite corner as Kylo. 

“You know I won’t murder you in your sleep.” 

“Of course not, you reserve that treatment for fathers.” 

She knew. Organa’s poison had penetrated deeper than Kylo had expected, deep enough to know his most charred and blackened sin. But the girl beside him did not know that what he had done had been necessary. 

Han Solo was a decorated Air Force veteran and a hero of the Vietnam War. As a general he had had access to information regarding the Armed Forces sale and purchase of weapons, including ties to the First Order. In 2013 he leaked documents revealing the First Order’s sale of weapons to hostile nations, including Saudi Arabia and Iran, which had been used to commit war crimes against innocent civilians in the Syrian civil war. The First Order filed suit in conjunction with the CIA arguing that Solo had violated the non-disclosure agreements between the First Order and the United States government. Kylo’s first case with the First Order had been against his father. When Solo was found dead in the cockpit of his favorite plane three weeks after the First Order won the case against him it had been ruled a suicide, but there too Kylo had been complicit. 

“Despite whatever lies Organa spouted, you don’t know anything about it,” he practically spit, facing forward with all concentration focused on the fire alarm in front of him. He would not look at her, he would not face the betrayal that occurred only in his mind. Rey pressed a glowing button labeled 3, and hurriedly rushed out in favor of the stairs. This was better, because now isolated he allowed himself the relief of a single punch in the aluminum wall, leaving a dent. 

Also alone, but on the third floor, Rey stared at the elevator doors long after they had closed. Before stepping into the courtroom she had officially made an enemy of her opposing counsel. Her suicidal tendency to have the last word did not bode well for the coming months, considering the lengthy discovery process that would require them to cooperate, when apparently they could not survive an elevator ride together. She had not spoken a lie, but her information had come only partly from Leia, all of which she let slip accidentally; the rest was pieced together from old articles she found while digging through Ren’s personal history. She had no proof that the First Order has planned Solo’s assassination, or even that Ren was Leia’s son, but she had a hunch that Ren’s reaction confirmed. The idea made her feel ill. To not only reject a family, but to murder his own father in cold-blood in some type of twisted test of loyalty to a war criminal. How could the flighty young man she had seen in that courtroom years ago hold such a monster within him? What could have raked him so? Or had he always been monstrous, cleverly hiding behind the poisoned pretense of beauty? It didn’t matter what the answer was, all that was real was that she had formed a new enemy and shown herself to be a fool.

When Kylo returned to his office he canceled all meetings, choosing instead to find refuge in the building’s gym and channel his anger into a more appropriate outlet. He changed quickly into an all-black tracksuit, wrapped his knuckles, then called over a trainer to fight hand-to hand. The trainers had been more comfortable fighting Kylo when he was an intern, but as he grew both stronger and more powerful within the First Order, he began to suspect they were pulling their punches. The trainer, a large man—only two inches shorter than Kylo—named Brutus threw the first punch.

“No holding back today, Brutus, I need a proper fight. Harder,” said Kylo, frustrated.

“Yes, sir.”

The two fought dirty, Kylo first, then Brutus following his lead. As Kylo began punching he wanted to imagine someone else in Brutus’ place. When he imagined his father he saw only a corpse, when he pictured Snoke he shamed himself for his disloyalty, and of course it could never be Rey. But he imagined her for a moment, teeth bared and swinging—as passionate and taunting as her writing. Despite it’s obvious sarcasm, it had been very eloquent legal writing. And to think that she had only passed the bar five months ago. Oh how her potential was wasted with those self-righteous insurgents! What she needed was to be molded, directed, not abandoned to face the wolves alone. He would have taken time to teach her and mold her into something great. He punched harder, settling on an old favorite in the face of his uncle. In the shower afterwards both his blood and his opponent’s washed off of him and formed a stream of red to the drain, disappearing only to be replaced. Kylo redressed and returned to his office to begin writing his answer, determined to surpass the girl. 

Two weeks later the First Order’s answer came with Ren’s letterhead. Rey read it, then Poe, after which Rey immediately began marking on it, looking for weaknesses.  
“They have a legitimate counterclaim for using the contract, but I think we can challenge the Constitutionality of the contract itself. Finn said he couldn’t understand the contract, that no one could if they weren’t a lawyer. If we can show that this contract was legally binding, beyond a lay person’s understanding, and that person was coerced into signing it, it should be null.”

“So you’re saying that the First Order violated the Constitution not by data mining employees, but by creating a contract so convoluted it was impossible to understand, so that they didn’t understand they were letting themselves be data mined?”

“Right, we’re not arguing if they did it, which the First Order will say is fine because the employees consented. We’re arguing that it was impossible for the employees to knowingly consent and therefore constituted an unconstitutional search and seizure. That’s the whole case.”

“Right.”

“Right.”

“Right, right, right, alright. We’re getting somewhere here,” Poe said as he began pacing the meeting room, “They may not see it coming now, but Snoke’ll catch on fast. When we start requesting interrogatories about the contracts they’re going to catch up quickly, don’t get cocky.”

“I’m not cocky, I’ve just had a breakthrough that’s all, no appreciation necessary.”

“You should be proud of yourself Rey, really, but we’ve seriously only barely begun.”

Rey treated herself to a sandwich at Rockwell’s on the way home; she had eaten at a restaurant no more than ten times before college, and even then never anywhere more expensive than a drive-thru. Although she had grown used to consistent food, she still treasured it, and skipped home impatiently to eat. But while turning the corner of John Street she remembered her new neighbor and immediately lost the height in her step. It was the type of cruelty she was beginning to expect from the First Order, to infest even the sanctuary of her home with one of their underlings. But even Ren could not ruin a good sandwich. She rode the elevator up to the 7th floor thankfully alone, but she did notice a new dent in the wall that wasn’t there before. The height of the dent was about to Ren’s shoulder, but she dismissed her suspicions due to the discomfort they caused. When the elevator halted she stepped out only to see Ren again, looking as surprised as she, but only for a moment. 

“Ms. Johnson,” he said, how ridiculous it sounded in private, “I trust you received my answer?”

“Yes, the clerk delivered it today.”

“And what did you think?” He was soliciting her opinion. Surely it was some kind of mousetrap to catch her argument, but she refused him the opportunity.  
“I’m not giving you any sort of preview, you can wait until trial to hear what I think,” she replied. Ren’s mouth twitched mischievously.

“Although any sort of preview would be appreciated,” his tone suggested an innuendo, or had she imagined it? “I won’t be needing any special favors to win this case. I only meant the writing.”

“What about the writing?”

“Never mind. Simply curious. I’ll see you in court for discovery, where I trust you’ll give me anything I ask.”

“Unfortunately U.S. v. Bagley happened, so I don’t think I will.”

“We’ll see,” was all he responded, then walked towards the elevator behind her, passing close enough for her to inhale a wave of his scent. The doors shut between them with finality.

An interrogatory is a tool of discovery used between counsels when they have a greater than normal tendency to be at each other’s throats. It is a formal written question addressed to opposing counsel that must be answered within thirty days. New York State limits interrogatories to twenty-five, and both Rey and Ren were edging dangerously close to their limits. Rey’s latest was a question of promotion timelines for entry-level workers, which Ren still begrudged. It had been one of her first actions, and still after a lapse of twenty-eight days later he had provided her nothing. It had been three weeks since the incident by the elevator, and since then Ren had either made up a bed in his office or they had miraculously kept out of each other’s way. But for the past week Rey had begun hoping to meet him in the hallway, in order to catalyze the confrontation she so ached for. 

“I think I’m going to stop by First Order headquarters.” 

Poe perked up from his cubicle in Rey’s direction, “why throw yourself in a pit of vipers when you could just talk on the phone?”

“Ren hasn't answered the phone or my interrogatory for twenty-eight days, I think I need to remind the bastard in person.”

“Or you could let him run out his time and be censured by the court.”

“No, it’s information I need and a censure would just waste more time. What’s the harm in stopping by?”

“Alright, but I warned you. Do you want me to come?”

“No, two feels like an ambush, one is more innocuous. Like we’re all friendly.”

“You and Ren have failed to be friendly since the first day you were assigned.” Rey shrugged, comforted by self-righteousness.

“I don’t consort with war criminals or their lawyers, what can I say. I’m off, I shouldn’t be more than an hour.” The First Order’s headquarters were only a few blocks away, and yet Ren had failed to send a messenger to traverse them, so she would have to do it herself. The brusque skyscraper was as unwelcoming as ever, still morbidly opulent and devoid of any color or softness. A string of receptionists and secretaries led Rey to Ren’s office on the floor beneath Snoke’s, where she would apparently have to wait until he had finished his meeting with a witness. The room Rey was led to was all in cherry wood and lined with bookshelves filled with dust-covered law books and pretentious philosophy no one ever enjoys. Nietzsche was a prominent figure. Rey settled into a black leather chair across an expansive desk that might make even Ren look small, and reviewed the notes she had brought with her just to busy her hands and make her feel less like an intruder. The door opened five minutes later to reveal Ren, alone, rubbing the back of his head in order to banish some phantom migraine. He looked up and saw her, and she stood in challenge. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked.

“I have questions that you need to answer, it seems like they’ve slipped your mind.”

“If you’re talking about the interrogatory you sent last month, I haven’t forgotten. I just have other pressing matters as well, and your question was trivial.” 

Rey abandoned all pretense of civility immediately, “Trivial? The question of if you allow your employees any sort of opportunity for advancement, or if you just damn them to a life of meager wages and grueling work until they keel over dead? Is that so trivial to you?” 

“You’re inventing a villain where there isn’t one. Have you seen the cesspool of drugs and crime we pulled that disloyal guard from? We provided him wages and shelter and order, and he turned around and spit in our faces.”

“And with those wages you also gave no privacy or identity, you stripped away his and thousands of others humanity to become cogs in your machine.”

“That is the nature of capitalism, man uses man for the prosperity of mankind.”

“And what cruel dead man told you that?”

“And what leads you to believe I’m incapable of an original thought?”

“That bullshit rhetoric you parrot straight from Snoke.”

“Unlike the rhetoric you parrot from Organa? How different you think yourself just because you’re under a different thumb.”

“I’m under no one’s thumb.”

“You don't see it, but you are.” 

“You have no right to lecture me, especially as you sit here in your bloody skyscraper fueled by corruption.”

“What you label corruption is in fact the lifeblood of politics. You think the First Order evil but sleep well at night knowing that their weapons are guarding you.”

“How astounding that you believe the wickedest among men will do the wickedness of things but for the greater good of humanity. How blind has Snoke made you?” 

Ren slammed his hand on the desk. One hit, but a very palpable hit—it could be felt in the air. Rey felt her words had struck some kind of underbelly, to make such a seemingly stoic man betray his emotion. It cooled her blood immediately as she recognized that they were supposed to be professionals. “That was uncalled for.” She said begrudgingly, but still believed it wholeheartedly.

“Your precious interrogatory will be done within the time frame, now leave,” Ren said, veins bulging, unable to meet Rey’s eyes, instead leaning over his desk, palms flat.  
“I meant what I said,” Rey chanced a step closer around the desk, feeling like a safarist approaching a wild beast, “that was uncalled for, whatever forces we work for, we’re just their lawyers.”

Ren lifted his head and faced her, “We’re never just their lawyers. After speaking on their behalf for so long, everyone always starts to believe it.” 

He too stepped closer to meet her, staring intently. Both were silently trying to will the other into recognizing that they were right, hoping their sentiment would pass through the radiating channels of heat between them.

“We belong to them Rey, once they make us believe it.”

Rey felt a sudden pity for this man when he spoke of ownership. She had recognised that the shriveled man in the back of the courtroom at Nationals had been Snoke. This man before her had likely been owned for a long time. There was a foreign urge to reach out and console him. But in his eyes she saw that he didn’t want to escape. Instead they were bright and predatory and strangely hopeful, looking at her like the wild beast she had approached him as. 

“You would believe in this too, if you were here. You would see what good we do, what peace we have brought the world.” 

She stepped back, recognizing Ren’s eyes from the children of the scrapyard. It wasn’t power that he sought, it was a reprieve from the loneliness. The same eyes from children’s heads as they reached for their first embrace in weeks. But through his eyes she could also see a mind thoroughly permeated with Snoke’s bombast.

“I could never believe in this Ren, for as long as I live,” and then she finally allowed the impulse to run to overcome her, leaving Ren—the young lonely boy—to watch even her shadow abandon him.

Unlabeled bottles of water and a portrait of Ed Koch were Meeting Room C’s only decorations. The walls were an uninspiring beige which the light oak wood table clashed with horribly. The ceiling lights cast everything into a dim yellow relief that only made the whole scene more depressing. Here is where Finn Navis would give his deposition, under the watchful eye of both the First Order and the ACLU’s legal teams. Rey arrived first, almost an hour early, to ensure Ren would not beat her there. It had something to do with establishing power, which Rey could not fully articulate or accept. Finn arrived next, twenty-three minutes early, in a dark suit and clearly nervous.

“I’ve been practicing, making sure I wouldn’t forget anything and ruin the case.”

“You won’t ruin the case by mixing up some dates, if we need to correct the record we’ll just send the Defense a note and it’ll be fine. Just tell your story.”

“Right in front of Snoke’s favorite pet lawyer?”

“Leave Ren to me, I’ll handle him.” The thought of another confrontation with Ren like the one three days ago in his office still twisted her intestines, but they would be in public now, away from any improprieties that would fester in private.

“It’s not you I’m worried about, it’s him reaching across the table and strangling me.”

“I think that’s just his face, or he’s constantly thinking of strangling people all the time.” 

“Wouldn’t put it past him.”

Rey shrugged. As much as she was feigning confidence for Finn’s sake, she was nervous to confront Ren again. A string of tersely-worded emails had done nothing to ease the tension of the past weeks, and because of how tightly the First Order was guarding documents for what they called “security reasons”, she needed a bit of goodwill or more interrogatories if she was to last until trial. 

“Oh, and I followed your advice about gathering more witnesses, five of my friends from the Utah plant said that they would testify, but they’re asking to go into witness protection for their safety.”

“Oh my God Finn, that’s incredible! I’m sure Leia could arrange something, but are you sure they’d be willing to drop everything and leave their lives like that?”  
“In a second, they have nothing else to lose.”

“Oh Finn, I’m so sorry, for them and for you—what they did to all of you.” 

She remembered the scrapyard, and how all of her belongings had fit into a carry-on bag on her flight to America. She was not missed or remembered in Birmingham, just like the men and women the First Order had lured into their scheme. She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, not knowing what else to do.

Ren walked in at that moment. Eighteen minutes early. Just by the atmosphere Kylo knew he was interrupting a private moment, and even worse, an emotional one. Rey hurried to put her hand down and assume a professional stance, facing him and meeting his eyes. Hux walked in soon after him, looking disgruntled by the decor but remained silent and behind Kylo. 

“Ren,” was all Rey said in acknowledgement.

“Johnson,” he replied. Rey turned her attention to Hux.

“I’m sorry we haven’t met, you are?”

“Armitage Hux, counsel for the First Order, I’ll be assisting Ren in this case.” He shook her hand quickly but made no acknowledgement of the other man. 

“Rey Johnson, lead counsel, and this is Finn Navis, being deposed today. My co-counsel Poe Dameron will be here any moment and we can get started.” 

They both started unpacking, Rey taking out a recording device and placing it in the middle of the table facing FN-2187. She took the seat to his right, laying out a pad and pen but nothing more. Kylo immediately took the seat across from her, and Hux followed his lead. Then the door opened.

“Typical, fifteen minutes early and still late,” this was Dameron, “You must be Ren, Rey’s told me about you,” he said lightly. 

Had she spoken of him? He supposed it was inevitable, but describing him physically was not. How had she described him? How did she look when she did? It distracted him momentarily from the situation he had walked in on, but only for a minute. He soon returned to his projections on that score. Perhaps the man had been nervous and she was trying to calm him down, or perhaps it was a friendly pat on the shoulder, or perhaps his mother had just died. And if she did sleep with him, she’d be disbarred—surely that knowledge was enough to keep her in check. It made Kylo ache for the boxing ring, the thought of her not only consorting with his mother’s people, but also with such low beings as defecting factory guards. Rationally he was aware he barely knew her, but he had already begun to feel himself growing possessive towards her. She was more than this, she was almost his equal, and in time she could become so. She could replace the sniveling, opportunistic wheasel sitting next to him and thrive under his guidance, but still she sat across from him instead, expression stoic enough to replace Michalangelo’s Madonna. The two sides were situated now, a battlefield between them that might as well have stretched the length of No Man’s Land. FN-2187 began by saying his name for the record, then spoke uninterrupted for three hours.

“Thank you Mr. Navis, we appreciate you taking the time to come speak to us. Any comments from the defense?” Rey asked after killing the tape.

“Yes, while we have you here,” Hux started, “the defense will be a full psychiatric evaluation of the plaintiff.” Rey’s face furrowed at the request.

“What evidence do you have that that would be necessary?”

“Ms. Johnson, surely you’re aware that among the lower classes there are often mental defects that keep them in their place. There is most certainly a correlation between mental facilities and success, our society is structured that was, as it should be.” 

What was confusion now became repugnance. “As an orphan raised in a scrapyard I abhor that sentiment, and if you want a psychiatric evaluation you’ll need a court order, which no judge will grant on the basis you just gave. The only correlation with wealth is egoism, which you've clearly inherited along with your trust fund. I believe we’re done here.”

Rey rose, along with Dameron who appeared ready to spit a number of insults had his co-counsel not already gotten in a biting last word. FN-2187 remained impassive, but considering how demeaning drill captains at the First Order were, Kylo was not surprised. Although their indignation made the plaintiff appear weak, Kylo found he took no pleasure in the hate in Rey’s eyes when she looked at him again. As his equal, or near-equal, he found that he illogically valued her opinion of him, which did not bode well for their position. Perhaps he could make it up to her, perhaps he could return to civility in hopes of eventually luring her to the corporate side. 

“Look at them scatter, even they know they have no case.” Hux was unbothered by Rey’s comment, quite the opposite. He was the type of being that fed off of controversy. He ingested it, made it part of him. Therefore as he turned to Kylo he was quite pleased with himself.

“You’re not going to pursue a court order in this. Drop it.”

“What? You saw how disturbed they were by the idea, clearly it’s worth pursuing. Even if it fails, they’ll still need to prepare an argument against it and guzzle more of their precious time.”

“As will we, and the girl is right. No judge will allow it without cause and we have none, and I will not walk into a fight that is a guaranteed loss.”

“Perhaps you’ve forgotten...”

“Perhaps you’ve forgotten who you’re speaking to. I am lead counsel on this case and I am ordering you to drop it, understood?”

“Yes,” he spit.

After reviewing three depositions from guards in FN-2187’s battalion, Kylo finally decided to leave the office at 8:00 p.m. He had considered calling in the contract lawyer who had drawn up the First Order’s employee contract, but after warring with himself for over an hour he decided against such action. If a lawyer was needed to explain the contract, how could a lowly security guard have any hope?

He passed up the elevator but stopped impulsively at the 7th floor. He would take the stairs from here. His true motive was less superficial yet likely as obvious as what he reasoned to himself. He stalled by stopping to update Snoke. As the phone rang he observed the atrium of the building, a large open space with a cafe and dispersed greenery, surrounded by open hallways that allowed neighbors to observe each other’s comings and goings. It was another aspect of the place he hated.

Snoke answered quickly.

“I wondered when you would bother updating me, how was the deposition?”

“Nothing damning sir, and I’ve already begun mapping out my points for cross-examination.”

“Good, Hux informed me about his own little suggestion. You apparently opposed him.”

“Yes sir, mounting the claim would deplete our resources and has insufficient evidence to make any sort of compelling argument. It’s extremely ill-advised.”

“I agree, much better to focus on the other sordid details. And I saw that you were reviewing the contract lawyer, I want you to call him.”

“Sir, I considered it, but calling an expert for their opinion would insinuate that an expert opinion is necessary. I believe the concept will eventually undermine our case.”

“I disagree. If that security guard reads it out then the jury likely won’t understand, and regardless if the guard understands he still signed it. This is an order, call him.” Kylo saw Rey in the distance exiting the elevator and walking towards him, and for fear of giving away any information he did not argue with Snoke. 

“Yes sir, I’ll contact him tomorrow.” He hung up just as Rey entered earshot. She looked weary, hunched over her phone and lugging an overstuffed briefcase, but that did not prevent the disgust returning to her eyes when she saw him.

“I don’t have anything to say to you, and I don’t want to hear more of your social Darwinist bullshit, I’m off the clock and too tired.” Kylo was struck by the need to defend himself.

“I told Hux to drop it, you won’t hear about it in trial.”

“I hope you understand why I put exactly no faith in your word. But part of me hopes you do stand up and say something so blatantly classist in front of a jury of teachers and service workers, just to see their faces when he calls them mentally inferior.”

“That’s exactly why I ordered him not to do it, it was clearly in poor taste.” 

“Are you apologizing?”

“No, please continue hating Hux, he’s a detestable little rat.” She smiled weakly.

“I can’t imagine how toxic your work environment is.” A precious moment, their first joke, tiny but with potential to blossom. Clearly they had both elected to pretend what had transpired between them in Ren’s office had not happened.

“It’s bearable as long as I’m his superior.” 

Rey could not think of anything clever or witty to say. The very idea of Ren outside the courthouse was disquieting, but to form an acquaintance was unthinkable. He could not exist beyond his loyalty to the python Snoke. But he too was sagging under the weight of the day, of his duty, and his eyes were so dark and deep you could see all the way into them. Rey saw how in just this small way they were the same. It was enough mercy for her to not threaten a restraining order if she saw him outside her door again. She was tired and craving a Scotch egg and had been staring into his eyes far too long, so she merely said, “Well, goodnight then,” breaking the tension that neither would admit clung to them like second tissue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Answer- An official response to the plaintiff's complaint admitting or denying facts of the case, usually in the same general format. This is an important step for the defense because failing to deny any fact will mean it is an assumed truth. 
> 
> Vietnam War- I liked this reference because George Lucas described Star Wars as allegorical to the Vietnam War, although that means here that Han Solo would be on the side of the Empire...but he does redeem himself by leaking documents and becoming a whistleblower. That plot point parallels the case of Edward Snowden, which occurred around the same time.
> 
> An L3- Law students are described as L1, L2, and L3 for each year of law school respectively instead of the freshman, sophomore, junior, senior system high schools and colleges use.
> 
> Data mining- Seizing a person's personal data, particularly to discriminate or monitor their actions, without their consent. If First Order employees gave voluntary consent to have their personal data mined is the Constitutional issue at hand.
> 
> United States v. Bagley- Supreme Court case that amended Brady v. Maryland and ruled that prosecutors are not obligated to turn over anything that might be of use to the defense's case in discovery before trial. This doesn't apply exactly because ACLU v. First Order is a civil case, which functions by slightly different rules than criminal prosecution, but the energy is there.
> 
> Interrogatory- These, along with depositions, make up the bulk of the discovery process. All are written under oath, which means they are subject to perjury if they contain a lie.
> 
> Nietzsche- A nineteenth-century German philosopher known for his positions of nihilism, atheism, and perspectivism. Works for Kylo Ren because of his perspective on flexible or changeable morals. Also I just really hate Nietzsche, he defended slavery, is super misogynistic in his work, and is overall just sucked lol. So a subtle jab at Nietzsche.
> 
> Ed Koch- Mayor of New York form 1978-1989, ran on a "law and order" platform and was popular among moderate Democrats and Republicans, not important to the story at all.


	4. Chapter IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you're going to start seeing Ben, Kylo, and Ren all used to describe the same character-I swear I didn't just start using them at random. Once Ben's real name is revealed to Rey, any mention of him from her perspective will be referred to as Ben, while the omnipresent narrator/Kylo himself refers to him by the name he gave himself. 
> 
> The end of this chapter cuts off mid-scene, there will be more in the next chapter! It was just the only natural stopping point within like 2000 words of our target word count lol
> 
> We doubled the chapter count. This story is in two major parts with a small time lapse/change in circumstance between them. Should be fun!
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day, hope this chapter doesn't disappoint :)

More witnesses were deposed, strung out in an unending line as they were each milked for any value they possessed. For the plaintiff it was security guards, cleaners, window-washers, technicians and other insignificant cogs of the First Order’s motion. Kylo heard all of them—next to a sneering Hux that appeared more upset by sharing oxygen with such lowly creatures than any blow they would deal to the defense's case. The defense in return called supervisors, managers, and to Kylo’s frustration, an expert in contract law. Dameron sat gravely as he heard the lawyer with thinning hair and satirically large glasses drown on listlessly about the nature of legal binds, but Rey was unyieldingly pleased. The denser the lawyer became, the more she fought her own muscles from twitching upward. Because she knew. Unlike Hux or Dameron, she saw how with each hour that passed in the yellow-tinted room, the First Order landed an implosive hit. Kylo stared at the thin-haired man with hatred, Rey likewise with love. The man concluded with an unimaginative, “thus giving a logical incentive for the inclusion of a non-compete clause.”

“Thank you Mr. Willis, your input has been noted,” said Hux, “that’s all for today. I’m going back to the office to submit this.” Dameron too seemed impatient to leave, citing some type of deadline that needed attention, ducking out soon after. Mr. Willis disappeared without anyone’s notice. Kylo was brooding in pacing cycles, Rey opposite, oscillating with her chair. 

“If your happiness is looking for company it won’t find any,” he bit out.

“I don’t need company, just the knowledge that you just fucked your own case over. But it looks like you already know that.”

“Of course I know, but this witness doesn’t exist in a vacuum. There are other angles to consider.”

“I think what you’re trying to say is that daddy gave an order. The all-knowing Snoke has spoken.” Given that he had no other superior it was not a difficult assumption. Kylo was not impressed.

“Snoke is wiser than you know. And I suggest you don’t risk insulting him again.”

“Is that a threat? I’d like it to be. Just wait a moment until I can start recording.”

“Simply offering friendly advice.”

“I hate advice, especially from hypocrites.” That word grated Kylo’s flesh more than expected; the insult was an act of war which demanded a proportional response.  
“You have nowhere to speak on hypocrisy!” the sails of his voice billowed with emotion, pushing him around the table towards Rey, “You sit there and you steep in your self-righteousness while working for that lying, scheming woman as you bend the law to fill her political agenda,” while his venom for that woman was genuine, his dig at Rey’s self-righteousness lacked any sort of will. All hatred was directed at Organa, it would not extend to her.

“I have always been clear on what I stand for, and what goddamn problem do you have with Leia that you disparage both her, her work, and me whenever we’re in the same room?” She knew already, of course, but it would be nice for him to say it.

“My history with Organa is personal, and my position on her is justified, don’t speak about which you know nothing.”

“So you think everyone who works for her is just some mindless puppet of an invented liberal agenda?”

“Some yes, but not you, you’ve just been taken in by her.”

“And that’s your idea of a compliment, that I could still be reformed if I abandoned all my principles and joined you to defend war criminals and child murders. That’s what would redeem me in your eyes.” 

“I said nothing about redeeming, and I have never lied about what I am, unlike her, who’s clearly told you that the First Order was the devil incarnate and it was your moral duty to oppose us.”

“No, actually, I figured that out myself. And she never lied to me.”

“Yes she did, and you believed her without question.”

“I have no reason to doubt her, as opposed to you of all people, she took me in and cared for me.”

“I would care for you.” 

Both Kylo and Rey stopped. The buzzing of the yellow-hued lights stopped. The hum of the heating unit stopped. Time stopped. There was no reaction suitable for such a statement—so very nearly a declaration—but to stop and wait for time to react first. Rey, through Kylo’s eyes, was shaking slightly but otherwise refusing to move lest the reaction spark. But she instigated when her eyes broke with Kylo’s down to his mouth, an action which also demanded a proportional response. Kylo acted quickly to take her face in his hands and draw it to his. Her lips were dry but still so soft, the object of many daydreams now tangible against his, but not for long. He had only a moment before she would pull away in disgust, not long for him to argue his case with his mouth for her to stay. Rey was tense against him but did not pull away, and what was that? She was relaxing into him, only slightly, moving her lips against his. Vindication! But the victory did not last. She pulled away as he had expected, slapped him across the face, and left without a word.

Rey’s mind rejected what it had just experienced. She and Ren had not been in any sort of flirtation before he grabbed her, she had meant almost every word she had shouted at him. Surely Snoke’s psychological games would not extend to loosing his own attorney to her. He knew better than to open himself up to a sexual harassment suit, but Ren apparently did not. Rey didn’t know how she could look at him with dignity again after she had tasted the forbidden fruit. No. Stop that. She would not blame herself for his outburst. This was Ren’s fault only, regardless of the adrenaline that pulsed through her body now, and the humiliating seconds when she had responded to his kiss. Clearly what he had done was an extension of their argument, another attempt to assert power when he knew he was losing. It so nearly made her forget what he had said before, “I would care for you.” 

The phrase built a protective wall around her, acknowledging the dangers of the First Order while reassuring her that she would be safe. It accepted responsibility, declared trust. Rey growled in frustration at the contradicting evidence in her head, kicking a nearby stairway. It was New York, so everyone knew to mind their own business and continued about their day. Oh! A realization. She was going to have to go home. The thought wrapped her with dread so powerful it smacked of Birmingham. Would he be waiting at her door, ready to assail her again? She would be ready, he would not overpower her again. She paced the length of Midtown in avoidance. Eventually she returned to her office to sift through emails that did not need responses just to pass the time. The floor was empty and lit dimly in the dusk, but light emanated from Leia’s office. With nothing else to do Rey knocked on her door.

“Rey, my dear, you’re working late.” Leia was hunched over her computer with reading glasses tilted on the bridge of her nose, which she took off as an invitation inside.

“Not really, I had a deposition today and I wanted to take care of a few more things before I went home.”

“We often throw ourselves into our work to avoid the realm outside it. Are you alright?” Leia often said things like this, but Rey worried she would not be as sage if she mentioned it was her son causing Rey’s distress.

“Actually, I wanted to ask you something, and I hope I’m not overstepping, but it’s about your son.”

Leia’s calm veneer cracked, revealing the eyes of a mother in mourning, “Ben? How do you know about him?” 

“I sort of pierced it together, and he confirmed my suspicions accidentally. The way you talk about your son and how you talk about Kylo Ren, you get the same look in your eyes. And your eyes are the same as his, too,” she trailed off at the end, discussing such a thing that clearly caused her such pain.

“You’re right, he is my son, I really lost him at fifteen, when he took an internship with Snoke.”

“What made him do it?”

“The boy had always had a flair for words. We raised him in California where I was a civil rights lawyer and he always was trailing behind me, asking questions, reading my speeches. I wondered if he just pretended to be interested for my attention but no, he really loved it. Anytime he wasn’t peppering me with questions he had his nose in a book, any book, for hours at a time. Han never understood it,” she smiled faintly, “My brother, Luke, was a professor and Congressman out here in New York--he always liked teaching more--so I thought Ben could learn from him and get the training I didn’t have the time to give him. While he was out here he learned some, ah, troubling news about our family. He believed I abandoned and betrayed him. He met Snoke not long after.”

“What about your family?” Rey was pressing too far but she suspected Leia would tell her anyway.

“After the Second World War my home country of Romania fell to an authoritarian leader supported by the Soviets. The man that seized control of the government immediately began poisoning political adversaries and locking away any sort of dissidents. He was my father. My mother disagreed with his politics but couldn’t reason with him, so she fled the country as a refugee with my brother and I, but she died shortly after reaching America. After that Luke and I were separated, me to family friends in California and him to some distant cousin in upstate New York. We didn’t reconnect until years later, and I never told Ben about his grandfather. But when I was leading a big case against the government for Vietnam War protesters someone leaked the story. Ben discovered his family history from tabloid headlines. He changed his name soon after, but I believe it was more a rejection of me and Han than it was his grandfather, because we hid it from him.”

“When did you last see him?”

“Before I sent him away to Luke. He was still growing into himself. All ears,” Leia chuckled hollowly, “I spoke to him last after the headline broke, when he told me I was no longer his mother. He refused my calls after that. No matter what I did I couldn’t reach him.”

Rey did not know how to respond to such an intimate report of a villain. The stiff lines of Ren’s character now had dimension, fleshed out by his personal history. She understood his anger, but not its permanence--surely after more than a decade they could have reconciled. Alas, pride had likely stopped him, Rey could see it in his set shoulders and his windowless eyes. But he had paid a heavy price for his pride: Snoke’s endless abuses. Rey felt a new closeness to him, not compassion, just closeness. 

“Thank you for telling me, Leia, I’m sure it must be painful for you to share.”

“But not nearly the most painful. Thank you Rey, now go home and get some sleep.”

“You too, ma’am,” she stood to leave, but Leia spoke again.

“Rey? When you see him, how does he look?” Rey blushed a little, picturing not only how he looked but how he felt and tasted. But that was knowledge neither she or Leia wanted.

“What do you mean?”

“Does he look healthy, well-rested? You can only tell so much from the newspapers. I see he hides his ears with his hair now.”

“He’s the tallest person in any room he walks into. Healthy too. I wouldn't say well-rested, but then again none of us are.”

Leia clearly wanted more but Rey did not know what to supply. The old woman’s thirst for knowledge of her son was unquenchable, heartbreakingly so.

“You’re so right, now get to sleep.”

“Goodnight Leia.”

“Goodnight.”

With no choice now but to go home, Rey trudged dejectedly back to her apartment building, which was quiet at this time of night. There was no one waiting by her apartment door as she had imagined in paranoia, but there was a letter taped to it--handwritten on thick, cream card stock. It read as follows.

Rey,  
Please allow me to apologize for my actions, they were inappropriate and inexcusable, particularly in our current position as adversaries. Although I understand if you do not wish to see me in any external context, I believe it would be better if we discussed today’s events privately before risking our clients’ integrity through our unresolved baggage. I am making Coq Au Vin for dinner, join me. Apartment 8B

There was no signature, but there was no need. What arrogance this man possessed to come onto her and then invite her to a dinner of some pretentious French dish as if that could atone for his transgressions. But there was logic in his letter, because the tension that normally sat unspoken between them would scream if they did not reach some sort of understanding. She must go. She shrugged off her briefcase and bags in the doorway, then trudged into her bedroom to change into the most unsexual costume she could create. 

Rey’s bedroom, and in fact her entire apartment, was the product of a scavengers instinct. Teapots, pens, books, candles, cogs from microwaves, coiled wire, sticky notes, dried flowers, sea shells, programs from Off-Broadway plays, and other useless trinkets filled the drawers and counters, while prints and paintings (which were prohibited at Plutt’s) papered every wall. The content of the paintings did nothing matter, it was the color she loved, which was why an imitation Rembrant hung next to an imitation Pollock to form an absurd personal gallery. Plants sat on every endtable and hung in rope canopies from the ceiling, a form of life Rey could share with after so many solitary years. 

She watered them studiously before moving to her closet to rummage through the piles of unironed fabrics: sweatpants and a sweatshirt two sizes too large would certainly give a clear impression. But when she donned the clothes she looked slovenly, like the gutter-rat orphan she still hid beneath her skin. She changed instead into a pair of navy blue jogger pants—the uniform of upper-class suburban women that flaunted their wealth causally—and a tie-dyed t-shirt. Not slovenly. But not in any way instigating. She brushed her hair and teeth, pushed her feet in to a pair of trainers, collected her keys and phone, and marched upward to the eighth floor.

The eighth floor was occupied by penthouses, with doors spread much farther apart than those on Rey’s. Even as a spy Kylo sat in luxury. She could not find it within herself to be jealous, given the deal with the devil he had made for it. After checking the hall for any insidious eyes, she knocked on his door in three rapid taps. It opened quickly in response by Ren, in dark jeans and a black sweater, who appeared as surprised by her presence as she was.

“Rey...you came.”

“I didn’t want to, but your letter was reasonable enough to give you a chance.” Ren nodded in solemn understanding of his responsibility. He had reentered the courtroom.

“I can be persuasive,” he said as he stepped to the side to allow her in. Rey rolled her eyes and entered, Ren following. Rey could see that he was tense, almost anxious, in the way his hands wrung together idly to knead out the awkwardness of the situation. Watching him without the burdens of a suit or Hux lightened his usually grim expression, but it was only a partial reprieve. His burdens followed him home.

The penthouse followed the same basic format as Rey’s, except with twice the square-footage. The space was clearly pre-furnished and sparsely decorated, with gray and black tones covering anything in an arctic modern finish. It made Rey suddenly cold. 

“Love what you’ve done with the place.”

“I was stationed here more so than moved here, so I didn’t put much effort into the decorations.”

“Snoke ordered you to move in here?” 

Ren grimaced, “Yes, he saw it as a method of intimidation, clearly ineffective.”

“Clearly. But the food sounds intimidating, what was it again? Coke En Vine?” She butchered the French. Rey had taken Latin in college.

“Coq Au Vin, it’s French: chicken with red wine, mushrooms, and garlic. It’s finishing now, I should check on it.” He turned into what Rey assumed to be the kitchen and she followed him curiously.

“Where’d you learn how to make that?”

“As a child I watched quite a lot of Julia Child.”

“How old are you?” she asked, incredulous.

“They were reruns,” he snapped defensively but he was smirking too. Rey remembered Leia and how being here felt like a betrayal of her, being here when there was a woman that would give anything for Kylo--no, Ben--to cook her dinner and simply be with him. She continued.

“Do you cook like this a lot?”

“When I have time. I eat a lot of leftovers,” he tapped his finger to the sauce-covered spoon and tasted it, “this should be done, pass me those plates would you?” Rey found two and passed them to Ben who in turn dolled out a breast, sauce, and vegetables to each. Despite her misgivings she was excited, she had never forgotten the precious beauty of a hot meal.

“The table’s across that hall,” said Ren. Rey found it already laden with rolls, salad and fruits. She chose not to comment on it now, but this level of preparation for only her was confusing. They ate silently for a while, Rey using the utensils improperly to eat the delicious dish more quickly, Ben watching discreetly for her approval. 

“Did you get an invitation for the alumni fundraiser happening in two weeks?” The length of the silence was nearing awkward and she was desperate for conversation outside the realm of work; she also wanted validation that she was not the only one skipping it.

“Yes, but he’s a Kennedy running for city counsel, he doesn't need my money.” 

“You think his family should just finance his campaign?”

“Why not? He quotes JFK in every speech I’ve heard him give, surely he won’t draw the line for nepotism when money enters the picture.”

“Probably not, and I hate those fancy things so now I can boycott in protest. Thanks for that.”

“Of course, I’ll be boycotting as well. It’s repugnant of these idiots to build their careers off the success of dead people.” 

“Is that why you changed your name?” He knew she knew about his connection to Leia, but neither of them had acknowledged it since the ride in the elevator. Ben grimaced but did not look away.

“Partly, I knew I could build a life for myself without them, but carrying their name no one would imagine I had done it myself. Being the product of a legacy like that forbids any originality of self. You are a functioning organ of the family, not a person. So I had to do it, it was my only choice.”

“Do you miss them?” Rey suddenly wondered if she was wrong to miss her family, if her longing was a weakness. But better weak than unfeeling, privately anyway.

“No. They thought me a burden and I the same. They would never admit it, but they’ve gained much more by thinking me dead to them than I ever would have given them.” Ben had laid out his raw heart on the table, if angrily and bitterly so. But more so than the bitterness, the self-loathing was what struck Rey, because as Ben sat here believing his death would have been preferable to his family, she knew Leia sat in her office staring at the sun-bleached photo of him as a teenager and dreamed of a life where he came home. She placed her hand on top of his, much larger and ghostly pale, and stroked if softly. How much could Snoke have twisted him to make him believe such lies? Ben turned his hand to offer Rey his palm, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb in return, so unused was he to unselfish affection. The harsh buzz of the doorbell broke the moment. Ben’s eyes were lighted with sudden panic. 

“Wait here, I’ll check on that. It’s probably nothing.” 

Rey believed his eyes over his words. Ben cleared away her plate, but not his, and afterwards peered through the peephole.

“Shit,” he muttered, then turned to face her and said quietly, “Rey, I need you to hide. Just for a minute.”

“Why?” Rey asked, her voice lowered too.

“Snoke’s here.” He offered no other explanation, but motioned for her to follow him to the end of a short hall. He opened the door quietly and guided her in silently, leaving the door slightly ajar as to avoid noise.

“Don’t say a word.” Rey nodded. She normally would have been affronted by the clear social gaff of hiding one’s guests in their bedroom, but Ben’s face was solemn and his left eye twitched in stress. He left her to answer the door. Rey took in the bedroom, punctuated by the moonlight slicing through curtains, and found it equally bare and depressing as the rest of the apartment. The sheets were black and neatly arranged, a duffle bag sat alone in a corner with a pair of boxing gloves, a door opened to reveal a likewise barren bathroom but in white instead of grey. The voices from the doorstep carried to it, which were much more interesting to examine.

“Kylo Ren, enjoying an evening in, I see.”

“Yes sir, I sent a summary of this week’s findings to your office today and finished reviewing the expert’s testimony, my work was done for the day.”

“Done, you say? How many times must I teach you that there is no such thing as done. Have you seen the cover of today’s New York Times?”

“No sir.”

“Pity, you would have seen a fascinating piece featuring you. They were discussing our case and Organa’s little pet project, framed her as quite the prodigy. Their exact words were, ‘despite her young age, Rey Johnson appears ready to take up the worker’s crusade against the leading weapons conglomerate in the world,’ What do you think of that?”

“I have no control over what filth the press deems worthy of publishing.” 

There was an audible slap against skin, presumably Snoke to Ben. Ben was much larger and half the age of the atrophying CEO, so Rey could only picture him standing before Snoke and taking it. 

“The press can be swayed, and did I not say that this was to be a political spectacle? You have not stepped into the courtroom and already you are losing. You need a reminder of what the consequences are of losing.” A brawl—no, a beating—ensured based on the sounds that carried from the foyer. Snoke could not have done this himself, there must be others, Rey imagined thick necks and bald heads with brass rings beating at him as he chose not to defend himself. Thumps against walls and tables were audible, but Ben was silent. Rey hung between pity and disgust, and she could do nothing pressed against the door.

After a time, Snoke said, “That will be all. Remember Ren, what all of this is for,” the door clicked shut behind him and his lackeys, and Rey rushed out. She found Ben on the floor by the door, with no visible bruises but wheezing as he struggled to sit up. He saw her.

“Oh my God,” she said.

“I’m fine,” he managed before a painful cough overtook his lungs.

“Clearly not, I heard everything.” She stooped down next to him and lifted his shoulders to a sitting position. His injury broke down the walls of tension that separated them.

“What hurts?”

“There’s nothing you could do for it.”

“I doubt that, I stitched myself up all the time in Birmingham, I’m sure I can handle you. Let’s get you somewhere you can sit.” Ren nodded, and with effort and Rey’s help he moved himself to the nearest black leather couch. 

“Med kit?” She asked.

“Bathroom cabinet, top drawer on the left.” She found it quickly and full of half-used supplies.

“You use this often?”

“Every now and then, Snoke’s teaching techniques always leave an impression.”

“And you let him do this?” He looked at her like she was a child asking questions she wouldn’t understand until she was older.

“It’s not a question of let, this is what my job demands and I have to bear it.” As he spoke Rey shifted his shirt upwards to reveal the knuckle shaped marks already puffing with purpled flesh. She dabbed a wipe with ethanol.

“Bite this,” she said as she passed him a hand towel from his bathroom, once he had taken it into his mouth she pressed the wipe into his deepest wound, lodged between his left ribs. His entire body tensed at the sensation but he did not cry out, and did not remove the towel until she had finished. “Pills?” She asked.

“I don’t use them, that’s the point.” There was no use arguing his self-destructive logic, the bruises were growing larger and his eyes growing glassy as the adrenaline passed. She checked his neck and arms for their injuries but found none, and Snoke had wisely left his face and hands unblemished for the cameras. Minutes passed as she stared at him and she tried to arrange the appropriate blame for his being here immobile: culprits including herself, Snoke, Ben himself, and the world at large. Useless. She took his hand again but the gesture seemed insufficient now. She shuffled closer on her knees towards his face, feeling safe because his eyelids were drooping as the adrenaline drained from his synapses into nothing. He was still unmoving, so she dared to move closer and brush away the dark locks and place a kiss on his forehead, the way she had seen mothers in movies do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Non-compete clause- a term used in contract law, basically used to bar employees from working for or starting a company that competes with the employer. Kinds of stupid here because the First Order functions basically as a monopoly on the American arms market, and weapons manufacturing isn't exactly an easy market for start-ups, but what can I say, those bitches are paranoid
> 
> "..loosing his own attorney to her." -this line is a reference to Hamlet, specifically when Polonius offers to use his daughter to get information from Hamlet ("At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him," 2.2.176) implicitly sexually. So that's why it sounds clunky 
> 
> Romania and Communism- Romania was part of the Eastern Bloc, a collection of countries allied with the USSR, some more willingly than others, in the years between WWII and the fall of the USSR in 1991. When Romania fell to Communism, the king was forced to abdicate and the Soviets installed what was basically a puppet ruler (parallels Palpatine and Anakin Skywalker). Gheorghe Gheorghiu-Dej, then his successor Nicolae Ceaușescu together form the rough equivalent to Anakin, who both led a harsh crackdown on dissent and were known to imprison and murder political adversaries. Some conditions did improve for schools and the poor in Romania during this time, but it's always debated to what degree authoritarianism is "worth it" if standards of living improve. 
> 
> Coq Au Vin- A French dish made with chicken, red wine, mushrooms and sometimes garlic
> 
> Julia Child- a chef and television star of the show "The French Chef" in the 1960s, also known for her cookbook "Mastering the Art of French Cooking", where she cooks Coq Au Vin. She filmed the show (and her mistakes) live, and became known for her authentic, maternal personality. If Ben's watching those as a kid it means he didn't get out much
> 
> Alumni fundraiser- used by schools, usually with rich alumni, to draw money in for campaigns. Not going to lie this conversation was inspired directly by John Mulaney's "The Comeback Kid" in which John meets Bill Clinton at a fundraiser through Yale Law School for his presidential campaign


	5. Chapter V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: brief depictions of violence, if stabbing isn't your thing skip the paragraph that begins "Be quick" near the very end of the chapter.

Five minutes later he roused, “Rey?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re still here?” His voice was newly boyish in its vulnerability, like the way one behaves in dreams.

“Of course, but we need to get you to bed.”

“You’ll leave then.”

“It’s alright, you’ll be safe, Snoke’s gone.” She spoke to him as a child now, “I can stay if you want.” His eyes were clearer, his awareness was returning now.

“No, that’s alright, I’ll be fine.” With great effort he lifted himself from the couch. Fabric would inflame the bruises so his shirt remained off; she had been focusing solely on his injuries, but now that Ben could stand himself their situation now held new meaning, even as scarred and bruised as it was. She should leave. He turned and she saw his back, laden with old scars of white, netted tissue that lifted slightly off his skin, catching the kitchen light.

“What did he…”

“That’s my business, and I’m thankful for what Snoke has taught me. That’s all you need to know.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean? Your supposed mentor beats you like this and you’re thankful? I can’t begin to imagine the lies he has fed you to make you allow this!”

“As opposed to you, who sees the scars and mocks me? Watch your step when you claim the moral high ground.”

“That’s not possibly comparable…”

“All sins are comparable.”

“You’re twisting what I’m saying.”

“That’s my job.”

“So clearly we’ve returned to being enemies then, if you want to use my words against me.” He deflated at that, but Rey held her position fearing another trick.

“You are not the enemy, Rey. But you mock my suffering like it means nothing, but it does.” She deflated now too.

“I didn’t mean to mock, I’m sorry. And it does mean something, not what you think it does, but it means something.” It was as close to a truce as they could muster, they both sensed it.

“Dinner’s gone cold,” Ren said. Rey snorted. 

“You’ll have lots of leftovers tomorrow, but now you need to go to bed.” Ren acquiesced and let her move as his cane to the bedroom, trying to touch as little of his skin as possible. Rey recognized the merits of the black sheets. No stains. He eased to sitting on the edge. 

“I’m sorry you had to witness this. This isn’t what was supposed to happen,” he muttered.

“It’s alright, I’m glad I was here.”

Kylo saw the simple compassion in her words and was filled with momentary joy—she cared for him. Perhaps not in any particular way, but it still lived within her, embryonic but with the potential for growth. But in an equal and opposite reaction he was struck with a bolt of loneliness, because she was going to leave and take all the light and hope with her. He was seized again with the desire to make her stay, in any capacity. He lifted his hand to hover beside her face with difficulty, their heads at equal height now that he was sitting down. 

Lightly, for fear she would spook, he touched her cheek and she was still there. He moved his hand slowly to the back of her neck, fingers wide to feel as much as possible. She was still there, shaking slightly with breath growing quicker. He moved her face to meet his intentionally, and she was still there, moving to meet him with tentative excitement. He would not release her, for fear of her running again; he clung to everything he could. They continued greedily, but when her hand grazed his ribcage at that particularly nasty wound, he jolted out of her mouth. 

“Ah,” he said reflexively, upset with himself for ruining the pearly moment.

“Sorry,” Rey said, breathless and collecting herself, “You’re hurt, you need to rest.”

“No, don’t be sorry, I instigated.”

“Are you sorry?” Of course he was not.

“Are you?” She hesitated.

“I don’t think so, no.”

“Why ‘I don’t think so’?”

“So I really have to enumerate the reasons?” She began pacing the floor, “We’re opposing counsels, meaning if I let something slip to you I’ve endangered my client. Your boss is a psychopath who if he ever got any evidence of us together he would blackmail us both. Not to mention we could both be disbarred just based on what’s happened so far.”

“Right, but other than that.” Rey stopped her pacing.

“What do you mean ‘other than that’, have you been listening? Do you need more?”

“I meant an abhorrence to me personally, have I overstepped?” There was nothing but voided space beyond the walls of his room. Hang it all. What he needed was her to look at him and ensure him that he was not alone in this thing that had grown like ivy within him, that she would accept him. 

“No more so than I did. And I’m not sorry,” she offered.

Then she would join him. But she needed to be worked on, she was still barely here.

“Me neither.”

“Looks like we did the opposite of what we meant to tonight.”

“I won’t treat you any differently while on the case, no matter what happens between us, that’s what I had been planning to say after dinner.” Rey looked suddenly skeptical.

“What do you mean by ‘no matter what happens’?” 

“Just what I said, Rey.”

“I...” she hesitated, locked in a battle within herself without regard for Kylo sitting there half in anticipation, half in agony, “No, I won’t do that to Finn, I won’t jeopardize his case more than I already have. This can’t happen again.” Kylo forgot the pain that encased his abdomen and rose to his feet.

“You said you weren’t sorry but here you are, running away.”

“I’m not running away, I’m doing what’s best for my client. It’s in the Code, perhaps you’ve heard of it?”

“I don’t need a lecture from a girl who still has pencil blisters from the bar exam.” What was he doing? Antagonizing her like this when all he wanted was for her to stay, but they appeared predestined to fight regardless of situation, and viciously so.

“Well someone has too, because apparently you’ve forgotten.”

“I’m fully aware of the risk, I just think we’re both smart enough not to give ourselves away.”

“Not against Snoke, the man is a Renaissance Big Brother, it’s impossible.”

“Then join me.”

“Ugh, Kylo, not this again! How many times must I say how much I abhor the First Order and all that it stands for? And not just what they’ve done to the millions of innocent people they’ve helped slaughter, but also for what they’ve done to you. Look at you, you think me naive, but not enough to see you like this and then subject myself to the same fate.”

“It wouldn’t be like that, I would protect you from him. We would be partners, we’d be unstoppable.”

“You’ve never even seen me in a courtroom, your grand illusion is based on nothing.”

“I just know, you’re going to be fantastic, Rey. You should be with me.” Rey shook her head.

“I won’t, I won’t betray Finn or the ACLU like that.” You will, he thought. You will, you will come to me and I will no longer be alone, I will have an equal, a partner.

“Then we are at an impasse, you and I,” he responded instead.

“Looks like it,” she affirmed. She turned towards the door.

“Rey,” she looked back to him, “I meant it, on Monday we’ll be professionals again, we won’t let them know.”

“We’ll see,” but her voice had been hollowed out.

“We could do it Rey, you wouldn’t be alone.” They have the same pressure point, because Rey’s flinch at his statement was enough to tell him what she feared as much as him. 

“Get some rest,” was all she responded, but she reached out to clasp his hand briefly before leaving him again. The touch left a burned imprint on his skin, he wished it would scar.

The pretrial conference took place behind the gilded golden doors of the U.S. District Court for the Southern District of New York. The conference was the final stop before the First Order and the ACLU would go barreling into trial, unable to return. Both parties in the case crossed the threshold joyously—without any inhibitions. Both carried the torch of absolute certainty of their righteousness with hot flames; they marched into the ornate marble and copper construction equipped with their moral blinders on and flames held high. The room in which they would negotiate was cast in a bright, clean light over white walls, tall, green, wide-leaved plastic plants, and stiff black leather chairs. The window looked out over the Brooklyn Bridge, blanketed with smog and unable to be admired. 

In the hallway Rey and Poe paced in circles awaiting the judge while Kylo and Hux stood gravely at the other end of the hall to avoid intermixing with lower beings. There were no longing stares, wistful smiles, or forlorn glances across the invented No Man’s Land: Ben was keeping his promise, out of respect or self-preservation, and Rey was determined not to tempt him to stray. A clerk emerged and signaled that the judge, the Honorable Andrew L. Carter Jr. (the name reeked of nepotism) was ready to see them. He was a small man, with neat, receding gray hair and sallow, slightly purple skin, who walked with a light hunch which his robes hid well. He was the type of man that appeared to have no identity or discernible personality beyond his office. The judge stood at the head of the table as the ACLU and First Order took sides like a wedding—the ACLU facing the sky, the First Order facing the wall.

“Thank you all for being here today, this has already become a contentious trial but I expect and hope we can all behave in a civil and honorable manner befitting our positions and clients. You have both filed your Notices for Trial Setting and agreed to begin two weeks from tomorrow, I assume you’re still in agreement?”

“Yes,” Rey and Ben said in unison, then both chafed at even this momentary, public unity. Rey had not seen Ben since dinner at his apartment a week ago, and caught herself worrying about his wounds and if they had grown infected. He did not sit with difficulty, so she assumed they had healed well and had no correlation to the haggard look on his face symptomatic of lack of sleep. When the judge requested both sides’ pre-trial memorandums Kylo revealed his abuser, a weighty document outlining the First Order’s case in full. Rey produced hers as well, holding it in the way one would handle their first-born child.

“Excellent, now we can move on to stipulating exhibits, first the ACLU…” 

A long and arduous negotiation ensued. The ACLU conceded 10,000 hours of video recording of the factory floor with all images of weapons blurred, which would have calamitous effects for the First Order later, and in return received blueprints of the factory employee housing. A quid pro quo so to speak, followed by another and then another for four and a half hours. Rey and Kylo strained the bounds of professional decorum as they each fought to exclude each other’s evidence, but to Kylo the entire process felt performative given their recent, if jaded, intimacy. He did not want to fight her—he wanted nothing more than for her to stand up, walk around the table, and sit next to him. What a victory that would be, more glorious than any in the courtroom. But they were here, and she would not give him an inch of ground without fighting. It was inappropriate for him to watch how beautiful she was in this moment, so full of righteous fury she seemed to glow with it, but Kylo thought so anyway. When all evidence was addressed, the judge moved on to jury selection.

“How many perceptive challenges will each side have in this case?” Kylo asked.

“Typically I allow no more than ten, but in this case I am willing to hear arguments for more given how political it is in nature. It’ll be difficult to find people without preconceived notions of who is in the right here,” the judge replied.

“Well then, Ms. Johnson, what do you believe is fair?” 

“Twelve at most, if you want to select people solely based on their politics you clearly don’t have faith in your own argument.” It was a game now. Rey knew that Kylo would want as many as possible, given that New York City was one of the most liberal cities in the United States, but if he requested more he would publicly show his own incompetence. It was an arrow aimed at his ego, and it hit true.

“I have complete faith in the First Order and our case, so why any special treatment? Keep the preemptive challenges at ten.”

“We accept your proposal,” Rey said, smirking slightly. Hux, however, was turning an ugly shade of purple. 

“Perhaps we could break for lunch, it seems these long hours are starting to affect us,” he said tightly. 

He stood quickly then, and signaled Kylo to join him in the hall. Kylo’s back ached from being immobile so long, his wounds were still healing; he wondered if Rey worried about them as she had that night. Kylo shook off the thought quickly and followed Hux into the hall. 

“What the absolute fuck were you thinking, conceding those preemptive challenges? You’re aware Snoke specifically told us to negotiate for more.”

“Snoke also said not to show weakness in any respect, which is exactly what we would have done if we had asked for more challenges after what the girl said. You’re still thinking of this like a trial, not a show,” Kylo lowered his voice to a guttural whisper, “And have you forgotten Snoke’s contacts at city hall? We’ll receive a jury in our favor without begging them for more challenges.” Jury selection was supposed to be selected from an automated system drawing from voter records, but became decidedly less automated when the right people were bribed in thick wads of unmarked bills. Hux grimaced with sour indifference as he conceded to Kylo. 

“Fine, just don’t waste more opportunities to show off for the girl.” Kylo chose not to dignify the jab with a response, also fearing what he would say in defense of Rey, because this weasel did not deserve to look at her, much less speak of her. 

Two hours later both parties emerged from the same room into the hallway again. The judge exited with them, bid them all a very good rest of their day, and disappeared into the annex. The click of his heels reverberated off the marble surroundings in quiet waves. Poe, Rey, Kylo, and Hux were left alone like unsupervised children in the playground, and Kylo could only think to shake hands and pray Hux held his tongue. He shook Poe’s hand briefly and firmly to the point of discomfort, but took special care not to hurt Rey—who met his eyes without really looking before turning back quickly to Poe.

“You’ll be looking to book a flight back to your scrapyard in Birmingham after this trial, I’m afraid Ms. Johnson, perhaps your scrap dealer will still take you back in,” Rey’s eyes widened instantly in shock at Hux’s well-informed boast. But before Hux could continue spitting insults or Rey could punch him, Kylo grabbed Hux’s arm and drug him firmly into the elevator, being decidedly less gentle than he had earlier in the afternoon. Once the metal doors met behind them Kylo pushed Hux into the wall by the neck with only one arm wrapped tightly around his windpipe.

“The hell were you thinking, antagonizing her like that?” Kylo pressed harder into the other man’s windpipe with no interest in his answer, “You expect the her to work with us now, after pulling her skeleton out of the fucking closet? You have no sense of professionalism, only the desire for instant gratification, which is why you have always been a horrible attorney. Snoke will be hearing of this.” 

The elevator dinged to signal the first floor, prompting Kylo to release Hux and watch him crumple to the floor. He held the doors closed out of respect for other passengers until Hux got to his feet, then exited, unbothered by Hux’s haggard breathing. But he was bothered by what Rey was thinking now, he had not been able to gauge her reaction properly. He couldn’t call her, or invite her to his apartment again, his only avenue was happenstance. 

He left the office at 6:15 p.m, thirty minutes before he normally heard Rey open her apartment door beneath him, and walked down the street towards the ACLU. He stopped near the entrance and leaned back against the wall in a farce of disinterest. He wished he smoked, just for some excuse to be there, but because he did not he was forced to look out to a small Vietnam War memorial full of withering plants and wait. Twenty minutes later Rey emerged, or her silhouette did, and began walking toward him. He too began to walk as if he was just passing by and soon came within two feet of her.

“Rey, is that you?” She jilted as if out of daydreams and momentarily out of formality.

“Shit, Kylo, you scared me. Why are you here?”

“South Ferry Station’s this way, I take it home sometimes.”

“Oh, right then. I’d offer to walk with you but I’d hate to sully your reputation as being seen with a Birmingham junk rat.” She spoke sarcastically but Kylo knew real insecurity laced her words.

“I would apologize on behalf of my colleague, but I have no wish to do anything on his behalf. His comment was repugnant and I made sure he understood that very clearly.”

“Hm, I don’t think beating him up will make him less classist but I appreciate the effort. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Rey.” She moved past him and he turned to watch her disappear around the corner. He continued to stare for a moment after she was gone, but soon began sprinting after her when he heard a shrieking, quickly muffled noise. 

Was she being robbed? Raped? 

Fear and fury pulsed through his nerves and surfed him to move faster, around the corner to see two large, bald men in all-black mountain gear struggling to bind Rey. One held her from the front in a perverted hug that pressed her arms to the sides as the other struggled to zip-tie her flailing hands. Kylo aimed his first blow at the one holding her, a square punch to the ear that left the man stumbling and clutching his head. As soon as Rey was free she turned to the other man in black and quickly kneed him in the groin and kicked at his knees. The man recovered quickly and soon began aiming blunt blows at Rey’s chest and windpipe, which she dodged quickly until he fetched a switchblade from his inner coat pocket. 

Kylo was busy with the man with the boxed ear, who had also recovered and soon landed a hit on Kylo’s stomach that inflamed his week-old wounds. Rey shrieked again and Kylo turned to see her clutching her upper arm, the work of the switchblade now red and sticky with her blood. Kylo’s focus was now honed to a pinpoint: to stop the man with the blade. He turned to the boxed-ear oaf and landed a powerful hit in his temple which dropped him to the ground instantly. He then turned to the man with the blade and did the same.

“Are you alright?” He asked before the man hit the ground.

“Yeah, yeah, just a scratch,” but she was breathing hard and shakily, “Who are these men? What did they want with me?”

“I have an idea and it’s too much to explain. Rey, this is very important, you need to run, run back to the ACLU door and wait for me under a streetlight, I’ll meet you there in a minute.”

“No, what if they wake up…”

“They won’t, I promise,” he clutched her hair at the nape gently with both torn-skin hands and made her look at him, “just run, I need to make sure you’re safe. Go.” He let go of her hair and pointed west. 

“Be quick,” was all she said, and ran. When she was out of sight Kylo checked for security cameras, and when satisfied he picked up the switchblade, held it to its owner’s throat and slit it. He did the same to the other, surgically, with no comment from God. They had hurt Rey, and if allowed to live they would report back to Snoke that his pet had helped her escape. This was necessary, and their blood was a necessary sacrifice in return for hers which they had spilt. He rubbed his fingerprints off the knife and dropped it besides boxed-ear. He should have stabbed both irregularly, to set the scene of a mutually destructive knife fight, but he knew he did not need to.

Snoke’s cops would find the body and quickly write it off as gang activity, and another reason to secure more militarized weapons for police officers in the city. Everybody wins. Once he rounded the corner again he saw Rey shivering in the distance but otherwise calm, under a streetlight that surrounded her in a fluorescent island of light.  
He jogged up to her and pulled her into his arms, all decorum forgotten. She responded with her left arm but not her right. He was so foolish! He relished her closeness for a moment but then pulled away, “Let me look at your arm.”

“It really is fine, it doesn’t need stitches.”

“And how would you know?”

“This isn’t my first street fight,” she said simply. Kylo looked at her dumbly, imagining a body like his beneath her suits, covered in layers of white webbed tissue that would never heal. The image filled him with an implacable rage, the two thugs bleeding out in the alleyway were suddenly not enough. But they were dead and Rey was not, and despite how causally she treated her wound it could still be dangerous.

“Please, let me see,” he muttered softly.

“Fine, for your own peace of mind.” She slowly eased her jacket off to reveal a white sleeveless blouse and an angry red wound with smeared dimensions because of the blood. 

“I’ll just pour some vodka on it and sleep on my left side, stop worrying,” she said exasperatedly, but her breath still hitched when he prodded at the wound gently to look for debris.

“You’re right about the stitches, or else you would be going to the hospital, but it’s shallow enough that we should be able to treat it at home.” The word ‘we’ was not lost to Rey as it slid easily off Kylo’s tongue. More closeness. More intimacy. More kindness. It was so much, and from such a forbidden place she could choke on it, it clogged her throat and refused to let her say that she would be fine, thank you very much. In her exhaustion she acquiesced and let Kylo lead her to the subway station and north towards midtown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disbar- Revoking someone's license to practice law, removing them from the Bar Association at the state level 
> 
> "Code"- Refers to the Attorney's Code of Ethics, a code of conduct that sets standards of behaviors for attorneys. According to this Code and ABA Model Rules of Professional Conduct, opposing counsels are not allowed to be in what stuffy old people call "intimate relationships" without disclosing it to the court and receiving written permission from their clients first. Obviously Ben and Rey did not do this, and if they did they would probably be taken off the case or fired anyway. Their relationship is especially problematic because they meet at each other's apartments, suggesting "cohabitation" and access to tons of documents they shouldn't see. Until this point neither have them have used their relationship to help their own case, but that wouldn't matter to an ethics board and they would both lose their legal license anyway
> 
> Big Brother- Reference to George Orwell's "1984", where the government surveils all citizen activity public and private. Calling Snoke a Renaissance Big Brother just means a reborn Big Brother
> 
> Pre-Trial Conference- A time for attorneys to meet with the judge after discovery to either settle a case or stipulate the specifics of the trial abut two to three weeks prior to it. Here is where attorney's figure out how jury selection will work, which exhibits to allow, how witnesses are handled and even if the verdict has to be unanimous
> 
> U.S. District Court- A federal court that can try civil and criminal cases. I thought it would make sense to fast-track this case to the federal court because the First Order is such a massive organization with headquarters in multiple states/countries. Cases can be taken straight to federal court or even the Supreme Court, but a lot of it depends on situation and is pretty rare
> 
> Notices for Trial Setting- Where attorneys negotiate the time and place of an upcoming trial
> 
> Pre-Trial Memorandum- Summary of arguments, witness list, and evidence a side plans to call. Stating an argument doesn't just mean that an attorney has to turn over everything they know, rather the direction they plan on going, ex. arguing temporary insanity or a psychotic break is the reason someone committed a crime instead or arguing they didn't do it at all
> 
> Preemptive Challenge- Used by attorneys to dismiss a juror for literally any reason other than race, ethnicity, gender etc. explicitly, but because an attorney can dismiss for any other reason, it still ends up happening. Examples include: was wearing a tacky sweater, twitched too often, thinks Adam Driver is not attractive


	6. Chapter VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right now we're writing the final arch of this story, let us know what you want to see more of/included!!

They were not even the strangest characters on the subway, the giant and the girl, both in soiled suits and scanning the car for more blades, the giant holding the girl at her shoulder possessively as he strummed a thumb across the hem of her bloodstained blouse. No, the vagrant dressed completely in Times Square Bubba Gump Shrimp merchandise yelling out prophecies of Earth’s destruction drew all attention away from the pair, and for that they were thankful. Back in their building, in the elevator, Rey tried for an explanation. 

“Kylo what the hell did those men want with me? I know you at least have an idea.”

“Let’s make sure you don’t bleed out first, then possible explanations.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“I know, but for now just worry about getting that cut cleaned.” Kylo stood outside Rey’s door as she searched for her key. She appeared nervous as she fumbled for her its chain.

“It’s not much, about half the size of your penthouse,” she began before Kylo cut her off.

“Rey, please don’t think you have to impress me, as long as you have gauze and hydrogen peroxide it’s a palace.” Rey scrunched up her face skeptically then, “You were joking about the vodka, weren’t you?” he asked incredulously. Rey had in fact not been joking about the vodka.

“I wasn’t, but you’ll be surprised how well it works in a pinch,” Rey jiggled the key in its socket and the door opened. Kylo was met with the distinct scent of vegetation that was so rare in the city, and found his eyes would not absorb his surroundings fast enough, color was everywhere. He was met with trinkets, plants, crafts, papers, books, paintings, and canvases spread across every inch of the place in some controlled sphere of entropy.  
“Sorry for the mess,” Rey called in gross oversimplification from the kitchen. 

“Don’t be,” was all he replied, and turned his attention back to Rey. She was struggling to reach the cabinet above the fridge with only one functioning arm, so instinctively Kylo came behind her to reach for her, boxing her in between his body and the fridge. He pulled it down easily and handed it to Rey, who had turned around and met him chest to chest. Kylo stared down at her, so very vulnerable in her cut blouse with her injured arm, and he wondered how many wounds like this had she been forced to mend herself as a child. Kylo had known loneliness, but to some degree he had also chosen it. Rey had not. He reached out to stroke his thumb across her cheek and push back her hair with the other hand, following her scalp with his hand back again to the nape. Her eyes fluttered with the contact and emboldened him to believe she shared this magnetism too. Curse her cut and the villains who gave it to her! But because of that and only that he stepped away and took the vodka from her hand.

“Gauze?” 

“Yeah, in here.” She opened her kitchen drawer and produced two packets of sterile gauze. She handed them to him and positioned her arm towards him.

“You’ll at least want to sit down, this is going to sting badly.”

“I know how it feels, go on.” Kylo bristled again but doused the gauze in vodka over the sink. Once it was ready he returned to her side, he flicked her face with his hand quickly.

“Hey! Augh!” The surprise morphed quickly into pain and Kylo cleaned out the wound. She did not cry or faint, but Kylo sensed the urge to scream. 

“Tape?”

“Same drawer.” Kylo found the tape and ripped off a section with his teeth, then wrapped her arm snuggly with the remaining gauze padding the cut. 

“There, you’re all done. Soon you won’t even have a scar.”

“Thank you, that one would have been difficult to do myself.”

What he wanted to ask was also difficult, because he knew she would not want to answer, but he needed to seize the opportunity he had, “What did you mean when you said this wasn’t your first street fight?”

“I never started them, but the older kids would sometimes steal the younger kids' hauls. Meals were served in the order of whoever salvaged the most, and they were hungry, so I had to fight them off.”

“They starved you if you didn’t work hard enough.” He wanted names, phone numbers, addresses; he wanted to rage at everything, but he needed to be gentle now. Rey was hunched in on herself and rocking slightly.

“There was nothing we could do about it. Just stay out longer, or steal food after lights out, but you had to be careful not to steal enough someone would notice.”  
“How young were you?”

“I entered the system at age five, bounced around a lot, and ended up there around eleven. The older kids could work, you see. I was able to escape at sixteen because of my test scores. I didn’t really care where I went to college, I just wanted to get as far away as possible.” 

“And the government just stood by and watched children starve?” the rage was bubbling to the surface now, “A first world country couldn’t be bothered to regulate child labor in the twenty-first century? That’s what happens with bureaucracy, they all just blindfold themselves with red tape. Rey, if I would have known…”

“You weren’t going to save me,” she cut in simply. “You weren’t going to point your bombs at a systemic problem, blow it up, and call yourself a savior. I saved myself, alone like always.” A pause.

“I didn’t intend to minimize your suffering, I’m sorry.”

They were both silent for a while, any other response Ben thought of would be insufficient at the pain she had experienced. Even when Rey had first said she was an orphan while chastising Hux, when he had seen her as an adversary, he still felt a kinship with her. He considered himself an orphan, but now he could see how insulting the comparison was. “I always imagined if I had a mother she would sing to me when she treated my cuts,” Rey said aloud, “I saw someone do it on the telly once I think, it seemed nice.”

“When I hit you, I didn’t mean for it to hurt, that’s what I was taught to do when patching someone up.”

She smiled, “It was barely a hit, and it did the trick. But do you know how to sing?”

“I had lessons as a child but I hated them.”

“Maybe next time.”

“You know I’d always do this for you if you asked.”

“Well that’s the problem, because you don’t just want to suture up my wounds, do you?”

“I told you I wanted you to join me, and I still do, but that doesn’t mean I can’t help you until you choose.”

“Well you did help tonight, so I won’t fight you on that. We’re in recess until tomorrow. But now I have to change and wash up.”

“Of course, I’ll leave you to it.”

“Wait, I mean, we still should talk about what happened tonight. Give me fifteen minutes?”

“Of course, I’ll be back then,” said Ben before walking back out the door. Rey found she hated watching him leave, and wondered if the feeling arose from her general fear of abandonment or something more pointed. She eased out of her clothes gently and turned the water on hot to make the air thick and damp. She washed with some difficulty while trying to avoid wetting her arm and ruining Ben’s work, but eventually managed to scrub the blood out from the beds of her nails. Ben’s nail beds were likewise bloody, concerning Rey. She wondered if he’d lie when he came back, and if how he genuinely seemed to care about her would make him more truthful or less. She slipped into a pair of sleep shorts and a t-shirt from college that was too big for her, too tired to regard fashion in her choice. It had been thirteen minutes when she re-entered the kitchen to clean the red from the countertops. After fifteen minutes precisely Ben knocked at the door and Rey let him in quickly. He was in nondescript, loose back pants and a snugger black t-shirt, and his hair was damp from his own recent shower. Rey waved him inside towards the living room couch, where Rey sat cross-legged and Ben facing her.

“Did anyone see you come down?”

“No, I paced the halls a couple times to check.”

“Does Snoke have people watching the building?”

“I don’t think so, that’s my job, but I know he catalogues who enters and exits the ACLU.”

“You mean he knows about what happened tonight?” 

“I believe he has more of an interest in your clients, and he has people there mostly during the day. But I’ll check with security just in case. How’s your arm?”

“You’re deflecting again.” 

Ben smirked. “You did well today at the pre-trial conference, so if anyone wanted to intimidate you it would be Hux. Right now, that’s who I think sent those thugs, but I made some calls while you were showering and I still can’t be sure yet. But Rey, whoever sent them will pay for what they did to you, what they tried to do.”  
“What if Snoke sent them?” That made Ben pause.

“Then it would still be unacceptable, and I’d need to figure out what to do. But this isn’t his style, it was too sloppy.”

“You could always ask the thugs,” his hesitation confirmed her suspicions, “unless you killed them, which I think you did.” His silence confirmed. “Kylo, they were just following orders and they were lying there unconscious and defenseless.”

“They would have come to, then scurried back to their bosses and enlarged the target on your back. What I did sent a clear message, it was necessary.”  
“It’s never necessary to kill defenseless people, Kylo, surely even your moral gymnastics can’t stretch that far.”

“They do when I’m trying to keep you safe, and my real name is Ben.” She already knew this, but she had wanted him to tell her. Show her he trusted her, without anger towards his mother staining the moment. So she only nodded, hoping her own silence would spur him to tell her something more.

“Ben, full name Benjamin, named after my mother’s godfather.”

“Ben.”

“Yes.”

“You’re trying to distract me.”

“It helps, but mostly I just want you to know. But never refer to me as that to anyone else or in public.” 

“Then why tell me?” Because he wanted to make their closeness tangible, and prove that the experience they had just shared had meaning. He wanted her to think of him in a private way, a familiar way.

“I just wanted you to know,” he repeated. 

“Ben,” she said, testing the syllable on her lips, “What you did was wrong. And I know you view it as some honorable thing, but please promise me you will never hurt someone in my name again.”

“I can’t say that, I won’t make a promise when if you were in danger I know I would break.”

“The at least promise you will never hurt a defenseless person, someone who can’t fight back.”

He looked pained at the suggestion. In his mind he was considering every exception where he found himself perfectly justified, namely that night, but he looked at her face. “Fine,” he relented, “I see how much it means to you. I’ll do my best.” 

“Ben,” she said again. She smiled. “Thank you, Ben,” she said, and reached out to pull him closer. Their lips met with a familiarity this time, without the heat of anger or adrenaline distracting them. Rey moved her right arm as much as she was able around Kylo’s back to continue pulling him in. She wanted to press out every atom there was between them, while integrity and duty to her client remained distant and abstract. In this moment of instinct she wanted to seize as much as possible. She ran her hands into his hair and down his back to trace every divot that had once been a gash. She would like to learn all of them, and trace them like a map of the stars, forming constellations and meaning out of useless pain. Rey felt herself slipping down the cushions that lay at her back, and Kylo was moving with them. Their position changed the trajectory of the kiss, but Rey was so caught up in sensation she refused to stop. Just a few moments more, before someone else abandons me, she thought. But before she built up the confidence to stop him, Ben forgot himself and squeezed her bandaged arm, causing her to hiss in pain.

“Shit I forgot, I’m sorry, Rey, I’m sorry,” he said quickly, placing apologetic kisses along her face and neck to sooth the pain he had caused. 

“We should stop now,” she said, and hating herself for saying so. Ben nodded.

“I know, I figured you’d snap out of it soon enough.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The last time something like this happened you made an itemized list of why we could never be together, and then walked out. You’re just humoring me out of pity.”  
“I am not! Ben,” she said it so naturally, “you have to stop thinking everything in life is a transaction. That thinking is Snoke in your head, not what’s really happening.” Ben took issue with how she described his sense of reality, but had she truly lied? Snoke had not only trained him in the realm of law but also in business, where everything was monetized and nothing was free. Those were the visible branches of his training, but the invisible roots ran down to his relationship with his mentor, who gave nothing and took everything in turn. 

“It’s true that Snoke is...relentless, but he needs to be to remain where he is. So you’ll stay then?”

“Of course, it’s my apartment.”

“Then will you let me stay?” Duty cliched Rey’s windpipe and refused to let her agree, but she could not bear to be abandoned again. She would negotiate.

“I can’t be with you the way you want me to be, I can’t betray my client like that,” she kept names out of it, “but I want you to stay, it’s just, I hate sleeping alone.” The misery that had seized Kylo’s expression vanished. Any disappointment was pierced with rays of hope. She wanted him to stay, nothing more. Kylo was excited, because perhaps two bodies would be enough to keep the demons of his dreams at bay and allow his mind the respite it kept chasing. He was suddenly warm, and it spread to his eyes.

“Me too,” he said, “and you need to rest that arm. Come on.” He lifted her in the mockery of a bride, much to her delight, and carried her through the equally cluttered bedroom to the full-sized bed. The quarters would be close, but better than an awkward expanse between them they were too nervous to cross. 

“Which side?” She was surprised by the question, she had never considered it before.

“Left, I think.”

“As you wish,” he flourished, then laid her down gently on her back.

“They didn’t stab my leg, you know.”

“Even what they did was too much,” Kylo circled the bed to enter from the right, sliding between the blue cotton sheets, “I won’t let it happen again Rey, I promise.”  
“Don’t make impossible promises, especially when you won’t alway be there to protect me. I can handle myself just fine.”

“But you wouldn’t need to Rey, that’s the point of a partner.”

She sounded exhausted when she answered “Ben, not again.”

“I know.”

“Not here, at least, not now,” Rey sighed, then leaned onto her left side to face him, tucking herself into him and he in turn surrounding her.

“Rey, why do you hate sleeping alone?”

A slight pause. “I never remember not having nightmares, and at the foster homes they would beat me when I screamed and woke everyone. It got so bad I had to sleep with a rag in my mouth, but I was convinced that if I had a mother she would keep me close and hold me tight enough the monsters couldn’t get in, or she would dance with me around the kitchen until I laughed and made them go away. I made it worse for myself by thinking that.” At that moment he wanted to promise Rey everything. A home. A family. Whatever job she wanted. Whatever life she wanted. But the cruelest thing to do to an orphan is make promises, so Ben just kissed her temple and wrapped his arms around her, to guard her from the monsters that haunted them both. Despite the beatings and killings that had characterized their night, the both slept dreamlessly until dawn.

When the sun slipped through the windows Kylo knew he must leave. He was expected in the office soon and the closer to eight o’clock the higher the risk a commuter would see him exit an apartment decidedly not his. Rey was still curled against him and sleeping soundly, which he loathed to disrupt, but even more so he wanted to remind her that last night was not a dream, it was a real and tangible thing that they would both need to acknowledge. 

“Rey,” he whispered. When she did not respond he cleared the sleep from his voice, “Rey,” he said again and she stirred. “I need to go to the office, call your bosses and tell them you can’t come in today, your body still needs rest.”

“Why are you going in then?” She asked, but her eyes were still closed and her arms were still wrapped around him tightly.

“I didn’t get stabbed and I have a meeting with a witness, but I can’t say the same for you. I can come by again after work.” She nodded sleepily. 

“I’ll call Poe in a half hour and say I’m working from home. When will you be back?”

“As soon as I’m able.”

“Good.” He kissed her forehead and dislodged himself from her—stringing out a fantasy of a husband leaving for work as his wife slept on. He would return home to her tonight, making dinner in an apron he bought for her, sitting across from him at dinner soaked through with candlelight. This fantasy was dangerous in its normalcy, but it was soon disrupted by him having no clothes or effects in the apartment, and then having to slip out while the building was still asleep. Rey woke properly twenty minutes later and called Poe explaining she was sick while inventing congestion in her voice. He covered her meeting with Finn and insisted she drink warm lemon water with nutmeg “to clear up your head” as his grandmother said. 

She pulled out a draft of her opening statement as a guise of work while her mind reviewed the night before. Ben was confident that the men who attacked her were First Order, and if that was true she was slowly and agonizingly learning the depth of the First Order’s corruption. She had never been scared of Snoke or his instruments until she had walked into that alley, clearly this was arrogance. But had not Snoke’s own lawyer slit their throats? She checked some city news sites for killings the previous night and found a result—two men were killed in a knife fight but the New York Vietnam Veterans Memorial, the case had been written off as gang activity. No mention of their method of death. So Ben had done it, killed two men in cold blood for her. For her? Yes, for her. And more bizarrely still he had not lied, even though he knew his actions would upset her. 

Rey was beginning to see his two different personas, public and private, inhumane and very deeply human. The divide was disturbing, because she knew she could not in good conscience be the exception of a cruel man. A man is not kind if he is kind to only one person, or holds them when they sleep, or dresses their wounds. But it is a crack in the glacier, and one that could eventually cleave it in two with time. Time. How much did they have? Snoke would discover them, if not during the trial then after, and Snoke would consider Ben’s betrayal just as deep. If the ACLU were to discover them they would consider her a traitor, a fool, or worse a strategist—in bed with the enemy for her own gain. After fighting with nails and sweat and teeth for everything she had, Rey thought she had escaped nepotism, but as long as she was a woman she could not. Her draft stayed open and unchanged for a long time.

At seven that evening Rey heard a knock at the door. She rose from the couch, where she had finally been able to focus and work, and went to let Ben in. He was holding several take-out bags along with his briefcase. He stepped in. 

“I stopped for food, figured you’d appreciate a hot meal.” The act was so freshly domestic, it disquieted Rey—the way moving to new foster homes and receiving a new bed was. She still questioned his loyalty, which seemed so total to Snoke, she still wondered if there was room for anything else. But food was always food.

“Yes I would, what do you have?”

“Italian, from a place two blocks down from the Order’s building. I wasn’t sure what you’d like so I got some of everything.” He set the bags on the kitchen counter, pulled up two stools, and helped Rey lay out everything.

“You’ll find I’m not picky, poverty does that to you. At the scrapyard I lived on granola bars and extra school lunches they let me take home, this looks wonderful.” Perhaps she shouldn’t talk about this, because Ben had first been stunned but was now growing visibly angry, if not at her then at the world. The twitch under his left eye told her all of this.

“What foster parent would let their child live like that?” Rey shrugged.

“His name was Plutt, and foster parent is a stretch, but there was nothing we could do as wards of the state. The government didn’t have another place for us so they turned a blind eye.”

“Did he still live in Birmingham?”

“Yes, but in the outskirts, trash from the city flowed into the yard and then it was my job to sift through it and see if anyone had mistakenly thrown away anything of value. All day in the summers and on weekends, after school until it got dark on the weeknights.” She still remembered the glass crunching under her thin and beaten soles, the rain that poured and made everything soft and sag, the retching odor that made her upheave what little food she had. It was a miserable existence, only halfway considered life. But she had escaped and now had a grand display of pastas and breads stretched before her. Ben was still fuming silently.

“So, what’s first?”

“He should pay for treating you like that, death is too good for any man that hurts you.” 

“I don’t need to destroy him, the gambling and liquor are doing it for me. But the food’s going cold.” Her answer had not sated Ben completely, but he was calm enough to give her a tour of Fiorentina steaks, risotto, truffles, focaccia, tiramisu, and other dishes Rey could not pronounce. She ate quickly and happily.

“You know,” she started between bites with her mouth still half full, “I think you know much more about me than I know about you.”

“My childhood is an anthology of my own weakness, I don’t think about it when I don't have to.”

“Something simple then, your first job. I was a scrap collector, it can’t get much more lowly than that.”

Ben paused in thought. “It was more like an internship, I don’t remember getting paid, but it was in the summer after my freshman year.”

“Alright, we’re at?”

“The First Order,” Rey looked stunned and Ben felt a twist of shame for the first time at the mention of the name, of how much of his life he had given willingly to Snoke, “I worked as a clerk from Snoke himself. I was honored more than anything, even if the hours were awful and Snoke was…” she had already heard while locked in his room,” Well you know how he is.”

“You were so young,” Rey whispered.

“Yes, they called me some type of protégée and Snoke took me under his wing. It was the opportunity that got me where I am.” Which was where? Petrified that Snoke would discover them and expose them, or worse hurt her? Scarred to the point that Rey flinched to look at him? Already plotting the murder of another man in Birmingham as soon as he scrubbed his last kill from his nailbeds? These things were all side effects of power, which is what Kylo had wanted. Snoke had given him what he had craved, and had been paid his due in turn. 

“Why did you want to work for him?”

“Partly to spite my parents, they had been forcing me to work at my uncle’s office,” how he had loathed it there, where no matter how tall he grew he could never escape his uncle’s shadow, “and they disagreed with Snoke’s politics. But it was a competitive spot and Snoke had seemed to have sought me out. I thought that that was my chance to make a legacy that was not contingent on my family. It was freedom in a way,” in a much realer way it was bondage, but the necessary kind. 

“You could do that anywhere Ben, you’re brilliant at what you do. Snoke has been syphoning off your potential for too long to defend his crimes. You could fight for people who deserve it.” Ben felt it, they had reentered the courtroom again. He was standing at his full height now, and Rey had drawn up her shoulders in her chair.  
“That’s a very romantic way of looking at the law, I used to think like that too, until I realized the criminals also needed lawyers for the system to be fair. But the First Order isn’t criminal, quite the opposite, they curtail lawlessness.”

“When you mean lawlessness you mean revolution against corrupt governments? You mean innocent civilians caught in the crossfires of criminal wars? I’m fully aware that criminals deserve representation, but there is a moral distinction between representing a murderer and defending him.”

“No there is not! What did I tell you Rey? After so long everyone starts to believe it. When you’re preparing to convince a jury you convince yourself at the same time.”

“You shouldn't have to fool yourself into your own argument! You could escape this Ben, you could fight for something you actually believe in.”

“There is no such thing as escape from the First Order, Snoke values nothing above loyalty. I chose the trajectory of my life at the age of fifteen.”

“And he was wrong to make you choose! This man groomed you into a personal attack dog to defend him. He’s a coward.” Ben should have fought back, rebutted this slander against his mentor, but he didn’t. Because in his deepest and most secret place knew that she was right. He still believed in the First Order, but his loyalty to Snoke had been corroding slowly from acid rain. A steady pattering had beaten at the edge of his psyche for years, but in comparison Rey’s words were a storm cloud: as loud as thunder. He sat back down and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, mostly with himself. They were again at a stalemate of ideology. Rey rose and circled the counter to face Ben, rotating his stool to face her too. She brought her hands to his face and encased it tightly.

“He’s a coward, Ben, and a leech on your brilliance.” She stroked his cheek with her thumb and it calmed him. He pulled her in closer and rested his own head on her shoulder, finding her eyes too bright to look at directly any more. What peace must she know, to be so sure of her convictions; unlike him who had been torn apart by his own conflicting loyalties throughout his living memory. Her words only made the dark and light within him struggle more ferociously, but her arms soothed him in their wake. With her in his arms he felt the instinctive possession he always felt while around her, but it welled within him now with a vengeance that normally stayed dormant. He began to kiss her wherever he was able—neck, hair, shoulder—in simple affection more so than a prelude to anything else. They were both too tired and she still seemed hesitant to take that final step, so he would wait as long as she needed. Some time later they separated silently and Ben redressed her wound, which was healing nicely. He then left to shower and change, but thirty minutes later returned quietly, soundlessly, and Rey let him in again. 

They slept in the same position they had the night before. Rey feared she would never sleep so well again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> None today, not a very technical chapter :)

**Author's Note:**

> Machivelli- Renaissance philosopher and author of "The Prince", a controversial political essay that functions as a manual on how to achieve and maintain power, disregarding morality, some argue that its instruction is ironic, but it is still seen as morally dubious
> 
> ACLU- The American Civil Liberties Union, a famous civil rights organization that litigates Constitutional law
> 
> 4th Amendment- protects against unlawful searches and seizures, the ACLU is arguing that this amendment protects against the First Order seizing private data from its employees
> 
> Moot Court- competitions between groups of law students representing different school in which they imitate lawyers and witnesses in an invented case provided to them, the high school & college equivalent is Mock Trial/Trial Team
> 
> Discovery- a pretrial process of collecting and sharing evidence between counsels, often the most lengthly part of a trial
> 
> Complaint- a legal document written by the plaintiff (the equivalent to the prosecution in civil cases) describing why they are bringing a case against the Defendant


End file.
